


A Whole Brand New Bitch

by dragonshitlavellan



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst and Humor, Attempt at Humor, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fix-It, Fluff and Smut, Friendship/Love, Gallows Humor, Humor, Humor as a coping mechanism, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Idiots in Love, Inappropriate Humor, Making shit up as I go along, Modern Girl in Thedas, Multi, Not Canon Compliant, Sexual Humor, if the canon doesn't spark joy its gone, just the writer having fun
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-02
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:34:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 23,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24509239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonshitlavellan/pseuds/dragonshitlavellan
Summary: Cerys has lost everything her parents first, her friends second. After escaping her shitty ex, she's just ready to show up to her first day at her new job in a new city. Instead, she wakes up in an entirely different world, one she's strangely familiar with. Now she has to figure out how to survive and thrive in a life she's not even sure is hers to begin with.
Relationships: Fen'Harel | Solas/Female Lavellan, Iron Bull/Dorian Pavus
Comments: 42
Kudos: 62





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alrighty, here it is, another self-inserty, throw away any canon that doesn't spark joy, MGiT fic. I have a Tumblr where I am posting drafts of future chapters if you're into possibly spoiling yourself for this story.  
> I also post a lot of other, random Dragon Age/video game/fantasy world shit there too if you're into that. I may even commission an artist to draw my dear, sweet Cerys and post it up there. I do have some of my brainstorm doll maker images saved as well, so if you're into that, the link is here. https://dragonshitlavellan.tumblr.com

“OOOFFF!” the air left her lungs as she hit hard ground, wanting to thank the glowing woman, but the memory was already fading, just like the world around her.

* * *

She was kneeling, hands shackled in front of her. Green flared from her left, making her grimace with pain and confusion. She opened her eyes, watching the green light come again, crackling around her hand. Gasping she thought through everything that had happened, but was coming up blank on everything after leaving her apartment to head to work. A door in front of her was kicked open, allowing two armored women to saunter into the stone room.

“Tell me why we shouldn’t kill you now.” The more heavily armored woman demanded. “The Conclave is destroyed, everyone who attended is dead, except for you.”

Fuuuuck no. She was not here. She was not a Mary Sue/self-insert character in some fanfic nor was she dead, that she knew of. That pain from the Anchor had been too real for this to be a dream, too. Weird hallucination? No, same excuse as the dream. Shit, well, for now, she’d have to go along with it, at least until she could figure out how real this whole thing was. She had been wrapped in her thoughts too long, Cassandra grabbed the Anchor’s hand.

“Explain  _ this _ .” It activated on cue, and Cassandra threw it down in disgust.

“I can’t,” she kept her voice as steady as she could. It still wavered in the end, giving her voice a pleading edge. Cassandra may not actually be here, but she was fucking scary.

“What do you mean you  _ can’t _ ?”

“I don’t know how I got here, how this thing came to be part of me,” she let her voice waver, hoping to get some pity, avoid the strike she feared would come.

“You’re lying!” Cassandra lunged at her, but she defended herself with the strip of metal connecting her shackles. Leliana pulled the Seeker back, wanting to avoid further violence, for now.

“We need her, Cassandra,” Leliana’s lilting voice attempted to calm her friend.

“I don’t understand,” she was dodging, but she was good at it.

“Do you remember what happened? How this began?”

“I remember being chased, by  _ things _ , not people, and then, a woman.”

“A woman?”

“She helped me up some rocks, then nothing.”

“Go to the forward camp, Leliana. I will take her to the rift,” Cassandra herded Leliana out of the room.

“What  _ happened _ ?” she asked.

“It...will be easier to show you.”

* * *

The sky swirled, gray and green above them as they exited the building.

“We call it the Breach. It is a massive rift into the world of demons which grows with every passing hour,” Cassandra looked back at her, watching her stunned and horrified reaction to the unnatural, stormy skies. “It’s not the only such rift, just the largest, all were caused by the explosion at the Conclave.”

“An explosion did that?”

“Yes, it did,” the Seeker approached her. “Unless we act, the Breach may grow until it swallows the world.”

The green epicenter flared, causing the Anchor to explode brightly and painfully. It brought her to her knees as she curled around her hand defensively, a scream ripping from her throat. This hurt more than the Inquisitor had let on. Cassandra knelt by her and she leaned closer to her, trying to receive comfort from having another person nearby. This definitely wasn’t a dream. She wasn’t in Kansas anymore.

“Each time the breach expands, your mark spreads...and it is killing you. It may be the key to stopping this but there isn’t much time.”

She decided to save her “questions” for Solas.

“I understand. I’ll help how I can.”

Cassandra helped her stand, if rather roughly. This was just how Cassandra was, not an attack upon her. They walked together through the crowd of Haven.

“They have decided your guilt. They need it. The people of Haven mourn our Most Holy, Divine Justinia. The Conclave was hers. It was a chance for peace between mages and Templars. She brought their leaders together. Now, they are dead.”

“And everyone is fucked,” she breathed. Cassandra caught her eye, disturbed by her humor, but slightly, oddly, grateful for it. Gates opened for them.

“We lash out, like the sky, but we must think beyond ourselves, like she did, until the Breach is sealed.” Cassandra stepped in front of her. “There  _ will _ be a trial. I can promise you no more,” she cut the bindings. “Come. It is not far.”

She decided against asking where they were going, not wanting to waste either of their breath.

“Open the gate we are heading into the valley,” Cassandra called to the guards.

Halfway down their initial path, the Breach rumbled again, causing her to fall flat onto her back, crying out in agony. Cassandra helped her up more gently this time, holding her arms to be sure she was steady.

“The pulses are coming faster now. The larger the Breach grows, the more rifts appear, the more demons we face.”

“How could anyone survive this?”

“They say you...stepped out of a rift, then collapsed. They say a woman was in the rift behind you. No one knows who she was.”

They were stepping onto the bridge now and she tried not to hesitate as she followed Cassandra across the stones. Cassandra was about to speak again when the bridge exploded in a flash of green. A demon appeared in a flurry of green goo and black smoke, roaring at the women.

“Stay behind me!”

She had no qualms about that, rushing over to the supply box and finding a bow and full quiver, but also a staff. She went for the bow, having a bit of experience with it from her Lord of the Rings larp phase in college. She backed away from the second gurgling green puddle, nocking an arrow and sending it into the demon’s head as it dragged itself from the ground. She turned to help Cassandra, but was greeted with cold steel pointing at her.

“Drop your weapon, now!”

She dropped the bow, keeping the quiver slung over her shoulder. Cassandra had a moment of thought before sheathing her blade. 

“I am sorry, you will obviously need one if we are to make it to the rift. I cannot protect us both and I cannot expect you to be defenseless.”

As the Seeker stepped down, she slowly picked up her bow again.

“Cassandra, is it?”

The Seeker looked back at her, surprised and expectant, nodding.

“I’m Cerys,” she offered her hand in greeting, finally feeling that Cassandra was ready to know her name. She was a bit upset that she hadn’t come up with a cool new name for herself, but she felt that now was as good a time as any to introduce herself.

“Is that Elven?” Cassandra asked.

“No, I’m from a small farm, my father is human.” She was pulling her backstory out of her ass. She couldn’t be Dalish with a name like that, any elf with half a mind would see through it.

“Well, in any case, I should remember that you are helping willingly. We will find your family when we can spare the resources.”

“Don’t bother, they all died. That’s why I was going to the Conclave, the closest healers were there, they had all been sick and I was worried I’d follow them into death.”

“We did not detect any illness from you while you were in our care,” Cassandra sounded suspicious.

“Who knows, the explosion did this to me, maybe it knocked the sickness out of me?”

“Perhaps.Take these potions, just in case. They will help, even if you are just injured.”

Cerys nodded her thanks and they continued on their journey. They encountered two Shades and a Wraith, taking them down swiftly. Cerys was much better with a bow than she remembered, hopefully some tweak the Breach had given her to increase her chance of living. After fighting through more and more demons, Cerys was relieved to come across figures fighting near a rift. She and Cassandra were barely needed to finish them off, magic and bolts flying through the air quickly, with deadly aim. Her left hand was grabbed roughly and her heart stopped for a moment.

“Quickly, before more come through!”

He was even more striking face to face. She didn’t have time to dwell on it, as he thrust her hand to the rift, helping her find the way a closing fade rift should feel. It felt like struggling with an overfilled suitcase. It shut with a whiz and a pop, bright light exploding out, spurting green goop everywhere.

“What was that?” she tried not to openly admire his sharp features.

“ _ That _ was you closing a rift,” he lilted.

“So this thing can help us?”

“Whatever magic opened the Breach in the sky also placed that Mark upon your hand. I theorized the Mark might be able to close the rifts that have opened in the Breach’s wake -- and it seems I was correct.”

“Meaning it could also close the Breach itself.”

“Possibly,” he answered Cassandra. “It seems you hold the key to our salvation.”

Cerys inclined her head to him, unable to find her voice. Her neutral expression slipped, and she admired him for a moment, hoping the angle hid her expression well.

“Good to know! Here I thought we’d be ass-deep in demons forever.” Everyone turned toward the hairy dwarf. “Varric Tethras: rogue, storyteller, and occasionally unwelcome tagalong.” He winked at Cassandra. She snarled at him.

“Are you with the Chantry?” 

Cerys knew the answer of course, but she remembered liking something about the answer. She remembered immediately as Solas chuckled. She looked to him, unable to hide her slight surprise.

“Was that a serious question?” his mask had slipped in his amusement. 

She smiled slightly at him, before turning back to Varric.

“Technically I’m a prisoner, just like you,” he said dramatically

“I brought you here to tell your story to the Divine, clearly that is no longer necessary.” Cassandra was clearly annoyed.

“Yet, here I am. Lucky for you, considering current events.”

“It’s good to meet you, Varric. Even better to know a fellow prisoner.” 

Cerys wanted to shake his hand, but was unsure about it. She didn’t remember seeing it in the games, so she just bowed her head slightly, he returned it with a laugh at her little joke.

“You may reconsider that stance, in time.”

“Aw, I’m sure we’ll become great friends in the valley, Chuckles,” Varric poked back at the apostate. 

Cerys smiled at the two, greatly amused.

“Absolutely not. Your help is appreciated, Varric, but…”

“Have you been to the valley lately, Seeker?” he cut across Cassandra as she loomed over him to intimidate him. “Your soldiers aren’t in control anymore. You need me.”

Cassandra gave an exasperated grunt, turning from the dwarf in defeat.

“My name is Solas, if there are to be introductions. I am pleased to see you still live,” Solas sidled up to her during his confident introduction.

“He means, ‘I kept that mark from killing you while you slept.’” Varric cut in before she could respond. 

Cerys turned to face him fully. Surely he hadn’t been standing so close in the game. Maybe they had done it because of the models or whatever, but she could have easily reached out to touch him now.

“I’m Cerys, and it’s good to know I have someone looking out for me. You seem to know a great deal about all this mess,” she smiled at him, trying to keep everything as light as she could. The Inquisitor had always been very serious in the beginning sequence. It made sense as a game hook, also probably because this was their real life and they were definitely under threat of death. Huh, maybe she should be taking this more seriously. 

“Solas is an apostate, well-versed in such matters,” Cassandra bit out. Touchy.

“Technically all mages are now apostates, Cassandra.” Hooray! Sassy Solas. “My travels have allowed me to learn much of the Fade, far beyond the experience of any Circle mage. I came to offer whatever help I can give with the Breach. If it is not closed, we are all doomed, regardless of origin.” 

Great, now she had to act like she was buying his crap.

“Well, I will do whatever I can to close it then. You will have to tell me more about the Fade later, maybe it will help me.” 

Agh, she was “flirting” unintentionally. Shut up hormones. He nodded to her with a small, polite smile before turning to the Seeker.

“Cassandra, you should know: the magic involved here is unlike any I have seen. Your prisoner is no mage. Indeed, I find it difficult to imagine  _ any _ mage having such power.”

So she definitely wasn’t a mage, the staff had just been a fluke of her new “reality”. Damn. Also, Sassypants was already trying to remove suspicion that one person’s power could do all this. If this weirdness continued, she would have to drop some hints that he wasn’t as convincing as he seemed to think he was.

“Understood. We must get to the forward camp quickly,” Cassandra commanded as she led them on.

“Well, Bianca’s excited,” Varric bolstered Cerys’s morale. She smiled and followed him down the bank.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Comments are always appreciated, constructive, and inspiring!  
> PS Cerys claiming to be part human but looking like an elf comes from me thinking it's silly for ell elf/human kids all look human, like bioware says. Perhaps most do, maybe human genetics are more dominant and elf genes more recessive. I did warn you I was gonna throw parts of canon out, and we're gonna start it in the fist chapter!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Making my way to the temple, walkin' fast, demons pass, I'm walkin' faster.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm using a YouTube play through of the game as my reference for dialogue (way easier than trying to catch everything in-game on my own) so I'm linking them as they're also just a favorite channel of mine!  
> https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLCyE4i5wvFDjjQckY1rgBleh43dwYiAhm  
> Follow me on Tumblr to see spoilers (always hidden under a cut, no fear) and "pictures" of Cerys (just dress up game screen grabs, but I can't draw at all, soooooo.....).  
> https://dragonshitlavellan.tumblr.com/

Solas had fully intended to leave if he could not close the rift, or even gather more information on it. The elf who bore his mark showed little sign of waking when he had left that morning and the Seeker’s constant threats of imprisonment were starting to sound more like promises. The only reason he had been permitted to leave was the dwarf who fought beside him at the rift. 

Seeing Cassandra and the mark bearer was quite the surprise and a huge relief when he found the mark could in fact close the rifts. He did not miss when the ginger haired girl, Cerys, gave him an admiring glance. What a strange name. Was she not Dalish? That was certainly not a Dalish name, and the Vallaslin on her face were unlike any he had seen on what currently passed for an elf. Two matching tracks of a deep, somber blue ran from the inner corners of her large, green eyes that ran like tear tracks down her cheeks. They were simple but striking on her pale, freckled skin.

* * *

“This way, down the bank The road ahead is blocked,” Cassandra ushered Cerys through a hole in the stone walls. 

Cerys followed the Seeker’s lead, tripping slightly on her unfamiliar legs. She’d have to get to a mirror as soon as she could, her body was slightly changed, she felt shorter than normal but also out of proportion, like her torso was shorter, her legs longer. She could see that her thighs were still plump, but not quite so much as her real ones. She paused, taking inventory as quickly as she could, trying not to draw attention. She was as pale as ever, freckled too. Her hands still had dimples over her knuckles, but her fingers seemed longer and more gracefully crafted. Her wrists were still slim. She ran a hand down her side, still hourglass with a sudden flare to her hips. Gods, she hoped she still had her ass. It was a favorite feature of hers, and one Michael had hated, always trying to get her to lose weight so it would shrink, so she would. She still had her little belly podge too, for better or worse. And her tits!  _ Ah, hello old friends _ , she greeted her other favorite body parts. Did she still have her piercings?

“We must move quickly,” Solas almost admonished her. She looked up from her tits to him, flushing a vibrant red at having been caught running her hands over her body at such a strange moment. He was looking at her with a strange mix of amusement, confusion, and almost fatherly anger.

“Yeah, of course, let’s get moving,” she turned from him and followed their other two companions. She didn’t catch his surreptitious once over of her, taking in her ample hips and ass, stemming from a narrow and almost dramatically flared waist. She seemed...sturdier than many modern elves, perhaps her Clan didn’t travel so much or were particularly gifted hunters, allowing for better eating.

On the frozen river, green comets fell and burst in sparks. None seemed to break the surface of the ice, but they made loud crashing noises and rattled Cerys’ nerves as they approached. She tried to breathe steadily as they jogged back into the path of demons who seemed to spout from the comets upon impact. A random thought burst into her mind.

“Varric, do you have any spare caltrops?” Cerys asked. 

He handed her a leather pouch from his belt and she tucked it into her own belt to use later. She’d always liked using them in her play throughs, she often picked archers, even more often she chose Lavellans for some-bald in particular.  _ Not the time, Cerys. You’re in danger, if this is real after all.  _ And all of it was beginning to feel quite real, especially the ball of green energy that hit her before Solas had a chance to throw up a barrier. She yelled out her pain, the sound mixing with Cassandra’s bellow as the warrior charged two shades. Varric and Solas opened fire on the demons as Cerys took a second to pant through the pain of raising her bow again. 

The demons were dispatched easily enough and Cerys took a moment to grab a handful of snow and press it to the burning pins and needles on her shoulder from the wraith blast before trying to cross the ice. The four of them slipped and slid over the surface, only Cerys ended up on her ass halfway across. She gave up on standing and instead did a sort of scooting crab walk the rest of the way.

“You okay there, Sparky?” Varric asked her. She glared at him playfully.

“You’re not calling me Sparky, I’m sure a storyteller can do better than that. And I’m fine, I just wasn’t gifted with your low center of gravity, Shorty,” she quipped. He laughed easily as he helped her stand on the bank.

“You sure about that, Peach,” he asked and blatantly checked out her bottom. It was actually quite near his face. 

_ Hell yeah, still got it. _

“Better, but not your best I’m sure. Quit flirting,” she chucked his shoulder gently with a fist. The party all started up the stairs, Solas and Cassandra watching their easy banter with mixed amusement and disgruntled scoffs.

“So, are you innocent, She-Who-Will-Not-Be-Nicknamed?”

“For now, you can stick to Cerys. It means love, if that helps you brainstorm. To be honest, I don’t know. I don’t remember what happened at all but from what I know of myself leading up to this shit, I dont have the power to do this and I sure as hell wouldn't have wanted to do anything to result in this.”

“That’ll get you every time. Should have spun a story,” he poked her lightly in the hip as they climbed the stone stairs.

“That’s what you would have done,” Cassandra accused him.

“It’s more believable and less prone to result in premature execution,” Varric defended. Cerys looked at him and nodded sagely before cracking a smile. It quickly disappeared as they topped the stairs and she drew an arrow for the demons ahead. Solas’ barrier tickled as it came to life around them.

“Fucking demons, fucking fighting, shit,” she grumbled after they had dispatched them. Less than 4 hours in this world and she was already sick of this shit, mostly because she was now fearing for her life a bit. She’d have to ask someone else to take point from now on, running blindly into demons when you weren’t an experienced fighter probably wasn’t the best idea.

“I hope Lelianna made it through all this,” Cassandra fretted. Cerys looked at her questioningly.  _ Does she not know how badass her buddy is? _

“She’s resourceful, Seeker,”Varric assured her with a pat on the arm. If she wasn’t mistaken, Cerys saw a blush peek through Cassandra’s steely demeanour. She tossed Solas an  _ Are you seeing this?  _ look. He seemed confused by it.

“We will see for ourselves at the forward camp. We are almost there,” he told Cerys. Had he misunderstood that look?

Cerys hung back, hoping someone would take the lead. The other three looked at her like she was supposed to do something. Cerys looked pointedly at Cassandra who seemed to take her meaning, shaking herself slightly and forging ahead. Cassandra led them to the next rift which they managed to clear and close quickly and without injury. 

“We are clear for the moment, well done,” Solas praised Cerys, handing her a piece of dried meat and a canteen. She accepted both gratefully as her throat was parched and her stomach growled as she took a bite of the meat.  _ Mmmh, jerky. _

“I hardly did anything, just made things back the way they were so we wouldn’t be standing her with our thumbs up our asses, waiting for more demons. All thanks to my little handy-dandy thing I got at the Conclave.”

“Whatever that thing on your hand is, it’s useful,” Varric said as she took a sip of water.

“Good, cuz sometimes, it hurts like a motherfucker,” she said, handing Solas his canteen. He was taking a sip as she finished her thought and spluttered a bit before coughing in a very dignified manner. Cerys thumped him on the back. “You okay there, bud?”

Solas was absolutely stunned by this girl. She did not speak like any of the elves he had met, sounding more similar to Varric than anyone he could think of.  _ Bud? Like a flower bud? What? And the swearing, where did that come from? She swore more than… well, I did. As a young man, of course.  _

* * *

The four of them approached a rather pissed looking Lelianna.

“We  _ must _ prepare the soldiers,” she was scolding some Chantry official bent over a table. He straightened as they approached and leered menacingly at Cerys.

“Ah, here they come,” he hissed. Cerys stepped slightly behind Solas’ shoulder, he was the nearest human shield. 

“You made it. Chancellor Roderick, this is-”

“I know who she is,” the Chancellor cut Lelianna off archly. “As Grand Chancellor of the Chantry I hereby order you to take this criminal to Val Royeaux to face execution.”

Cerys fought the urge to stick her tongue out at the huge dick in Chantry robes. She may be slightly frightened of the man and the power he may or may not wield in his position, but a dick is a dick.

“Order me? You are a glorified clerk, a bureaucrat!” Cassandra tossed back at him.

“And you are a thug, but a thug who supposedly serves the Chantry!”

“She is a fucking warrior princess who could have your balls as a necklace before anyone could, or would, stop her!” Cerys stepped out from behind her elfy meat shield, fists on her hips and temper raging. Cassandra could have that man over her knee, paddling him halfway to Sunday before he could say  _ ‘Tadwinks.’  _ “Not that she would want them, they probably smell of holy shit.”

The man blustered and everyone else was quietly astonished at her phrasing, besides Varric who nearly burst something laughing. Lelianna collected herself first, deciding to brush past their prisoner’s outburst and get on with it.

“ _ We  _ serve the most Holy, Chancellor, as you well know.”

“Justinnia is dead! We must elect a replacement and obey  _ her _ orders on the matter,” the little power goblin grumbled. 

_ Yeah, right, he was the one calling for everyone to get me dead quick and now he’s the voice of reason. Typical gaslighting shitbag.  _

“Yeah, right.  _ You  _ were the one who just  _ ordered _ the hands of the Divine to get me dead as soon as possible and now you want to wait for politics when they pull rank on your sorry ass. Don’t you talk about me like I’m not a person, like I’m not standing right in front of you!” Cerys had always had trouble keeping her inner thoughts, uh, inner. A hand laid heavily on her shoulder and another grabbed her opposite wrist as the men of the party attempted to reign her in. 

“Fucking typical religious, patriarchal bullshit,” she grumbled.

“You shouldn’t even be here, knife ear,” he spat at her with all the venom he could muster. Both of the hands on her tightened unnecessarily.  _ Ah, I’m an elf. Of course, the universe just wants to make my life as hard as possible here doesn’t it. At least I’m not a mage.  _

__ “Call a retreat, Seeker. Our position here is hopeless.”

Cerys bristled again at his tone and words. Again, her buddy boys clamped down on her, reminding her to be a good little servile girl.  _ Who does he think he is, an admin guy giving battle orders to a seasoned warrior, who has killed DRAGONS, and has more experience than him in her pinky toenail. Men are the same everywhere, goddamnit. _ After two rounds of contained insults, the guys let go of Cerys.

“We can stop this before it’s too late,” Cassandra sounded every bit the confident soldier. Cerys admired that about her, in-game and in-life-or-whatever. 

“How? You won’t survive long enough to reach the Temple, even with all your soldiers.”

“We must get to the Temple, it is the quickest route.”

“But not the safest. Our forces can charge as a distraction while we go through the mountains.”

“We lost contact with an entire squad on that path. It’s too risky.”

“Listen to me-” an arrow was stabbed into the Chancellor's desk before he could finish speaking.

“No, now shut the fuck up with your defeatist shit before I throw you from this bridge. The grown ups are talking strategy. You know, the badasses who actually know a thing or two about fighting?” Cerys had had enough of his yapping. Her own badass moment was interrupted by the Breach pulsing and her hand responding. A scream of, “FUCK!!” ripped from her. Her whole arm shook with the fiery pain of it and she dropped to the ground, only her grip on the arrow in the desk keeping her from lying flat on the stones. She was panting raggedly as Cassandra knelt in front of her, putting a hand lightly on her knee and squeezing.

“How do  _ you  _ think we should proceed?” she asked gently. Well, as gentle as Cassandra generally got.

“You’re asking me what I think? I have no training in any sort of real combat, I’m the wrong person to make a decision here,” Cerys squeaked. Solas approached and again put a hand on her shoulder, cool magic running out from it, prodding at her marked hand gently.

“You have the mark.”

“And?”

“And you are the one we must keep alive. Since we cannot agree on our own…”

“Fine, make me the bad guy no matter what I choose. Since the mountain path is supposedly quickest and you have people on their own up there, we will go that way. At least we’ll find out if they can be saved,” Cerys sighed. “Hopefully the speed will mean we can minimize losses with the soldiers.”

Cassandra nodded at her addition.

“Lelianna, bring everyone left in the valley. Everyone.”

As they all started to disperse Chancellor Roderick glared at Cassandra. “On your head be the consequences, Seeker.”

Cerys turned and rushed him with a fist raised but was swept up and over Solas’ shoulder. He knew something of the like would happen after hearing the Chantry official. She huffed and slumped into the hold, knowing resistance was futile by the strength of the arm locked around her knees. She braced her hands above his tush to avoid knocking her chin against his back. He did not put her down until they left the bridge and bodily blocked her from returning.

“I wouldn’t have actually punched the prick,” Cerys said primly. She turned and walked up the mountain with as much dignity as she could while fixing her tunic and jacket.

“Of course, but your idle threats would have delayed us, as would reasoning you out of them, I am sure. Please, pardon my use of force.” Ever the polite hobo, he followed her and their companions up the mountain, ignoring the heat the icy winds brought to both of their cheeks and ears.

* * *

Cerys decided she hated ladders. And mountains. More specifically, she hated ladders up mountain cliffs. She had only climbed up one so far and her muscles and lungs were already screaming at her to lay down and have a rest. Of course, that could also do with what she was now self-diagnosing as altitude sickness and strain from using a bow for an extended time when she hadn’t practiced in about 5 years.

“The tunnel should be just ahead. The path to the Temple lies just beyond it,” Cassandra called down from the second landing. Cerys steeled herself to climb the second ladder.

“What manner of tunnel is this? A mine?” the curious elf nerd called from behind Cerys.

“Part of an old mining complex. These mountains are full of such paths.”

“And your missing soldiers are in there somewhere?”

“Along with whatever has detained them.” 

“We shall see soon enough.”

* * *

Cerys practically threw herself onto the last landing, panting and shaking slightly.

“You alright there, Feisty?” Varric asked as he handed her a flask. 

She took a huge gulp before realizing it was definitely  _ not _ water and definitely a spirit of some sort. Perhaps demon was more apt. As she coughed and spluttered, Solas’ canteen found its way into her hands and to her mouth, the cool water soothing the burn from her tongue to her belly. Solas took a quick sniff and a sip from the flask before handing it back to Varric who seemed surprised at the elf taking a nip of the alcohol. 

“We both know that one was the worst yet, Chesty. I’m fine, just exhausted and in pain and scared shitless. Let’s boogey,” she stood and headed towards the entrance to the tunnel.

“Hey, who are you calling Chesty, Miss-” Varric very wisely stopped talking when Cassandra rounded on him, pinning him with a glare. Cerys could swear she heard him whisper “melons” as he walked by her in the tunnel after their first round with demons.

* * *

Cerys stood completely still in the doorway leading out of the tunnels. Cassandra and Varric were already quite a few paces ahead, briefly lamenting the loss of the soldiers. Cerys couldn’t move an inch closer. Solas stood at the bottom of the steps between Cerys and their companions. When he did not hear her following him he paused and turned to look at her. All color had drained from her face, making her Vallaslin look nearly black on the white of her skin. Her freckles even seemed pale. Her eyes were wide, almost unseeing, as they lay on the scout closest to the doorway. He approached her as slowly as time and haste allowed him and gently cupped her elbow, putting his body between her sightline and the corpse.

“Come da’len, we must make their sacrifice worth something,” he soothed. 

He had not thought the sight would disturb her. Almost everyone in Thedas saw some dead body or another before reaching adulthood, be it from violence, sickness, age, or mere accident. They had even passed one or two bodies on their way here, though they had usually been off to the side, easy not to notice if you were focused on forging ahead or idle chatter as she had been through their journey. He pulled her away from the scene with muttered Elvhen words of comfort, hoping the sounds would break her from her shocked state. Tears traced her Vallaslin and he was startled to see them. As she had said before, she had experienced pain all throughout their short journey, but these were the first she had shed, all for three people she could not name and had never seen breathing.

“Da’len, we must focus on sealing the Breach. We can save others by sealing it, and doing so soon.” They had caught up to the others and Cerys seemed to shake herself slightly. She pulled away from his touch, slightly overwhelmed by her emotions and his proximity.

“Don’t call me that unless you’d like to be called hahren. Nope, nevermind, I can see you getting off on that. Just don’t call me that.” She tried to give him a humorous smile but it came out as a twisted grimace, looking quite haunting on her still pallid face.

Cassandra and Varric had stopped their easy chatter about the dead soldiers and the Breach when they saw Solas herding Cerys towards them. They watched with furrowed brows as she attempted to joke and get the air to clear of her weakness.

“I’m fine, just point me at something I can shoot, please,” she finally pleaded.

* * *

If she was a little overzealous with her shots at the next demons, no one mentioned it. Solas stuck closer to her as she closed the rift, keeping himself between her and another body off to the side, partially buried in the snow disturbed by the fighting.

“Sealed, as before. You are becoming quite proficient at this,” he gave her curt little nod of encouragement.

“I’ve always been good at stuffing more clothes into my drawers than should really fit. This,” she held the mark in the air between them, “feels a lot like that, just tinglier.”

“Let’s hope it works on the big one,” Varric quipped. She offered him a wan smile.

“How about Big Shot? I like the ring of it,” she offered him.

“Yeah, sure, you can call me that, Doll,” he teased. “I don’t take submissions for what I call others though. It’s a thing of mine.”

“No, again, but how big?” She held her hands apart, sliding them further apart and closer together again, waggling her brows. Cassandra and Solas both let out disgusted noises, though both suspected the other was covering a relieved laugh.

“Thank the Maker you finally arrived, Lady Cassandra. I don’t think we could have held out much longer,” the Lieutenant scout panted tiredly.

“Thank our prisoner, Lieutenant. She insisted we come this way.”

“The prisoner? Then you…?”

“We had to at least try to save you. I’m glad we could.”

“Then you have my sincere gratitude.”

“Save that until I save us all from that shit, if I can,” Cerys gestured to the Breach. 

“The way into the valley behind us is clear, at least for the moment. Go, while you still can,” Cassandra told the Lieutenant. Cerys stiffened at the memory of their path. Varric’s rough, warm hand found its way into her unmarked hand.

“At once. Quickly, let’s move!”

“The path ahead appears to be clear of demons as well,” Solas told them as Cerys and VArric moved to join him. 

“Let’s hurry, before that changes.” Cassandra’s hand rested quickly between Cerys’ shoulder blades as she urged them all forward. “Down the ladder. That’s the way to the Temple.” 

* * *

“So holes in the Fade don’t just accidentally happen, right?” Varric asked, helping Cerys off her ass from her slip down the last few rungs of the ladder.

“If enough magic is brought to bear, it  _ is  _ possible.” 

“You’re Bear now, Big Shot.” Varric ignored her for the moment.

“But there are easier way to make things explode.”

“That is true,” Solas nearly chuckled.

“We will consider  _ how  _ this happened once the immediate danger has passed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and Kudos are appreciated, Big Shot!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two ginger Bi-con Disasters and one Warrior Princess start an Inquisition.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, two chapters back to back, I must be crazy! Or bored. Or both!

“The Temple of Sacred Ashes.” Solas almost sounded reverent.

“What’s left of it anyway.”

Solas jumped down first and helped the others drop into the Temple’s ruins. Luckily, Cerys went last as she immediately turned in his arms and vomited as he held her about the waist with one arm and scraped what hair he could grab away from her face. The scent and sight of the burnt corpses had sent her already wobbly, swishy stomach over the edge. Oh well, at least it was only one strip of jerky and a ton of stomach acid wasted. She spat and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Everyone looked at each other uncomfortably, unsure if they should address what just happened. Cerys grabbed Solas’ canteen from its little button strap on his pack, swished some water, and spat it out before taking a big sip.

“ ‘m good. Cassandra, you look like you have something to say.”

“That is where you stepped out of the Fade and our soldiers found you. They say a woman was behind you. No one knows who she was.”

Cerys walked past the bodies, trying not to look at them. It felt like they were calling to her in some weird way. Like they were reaching out to her, asking her to acknowledge them, to mourn them, avenge them. She couldn’t focus on them right now, she had to keep moving or she’d lay down to curl up and die with all the enormity of the emotions. As she passed by one particularly hard to ignore and still flaming, upright body, she felt a new wave of nausea and wrongness wash over her. This time, instead of the black hatred and despair, the feeling was red with fever. She looked to her companions but two of them were avoiding her gaze, focusing on getting them to the Breach. Solas met her eyes and she gestured to the corpse questioningly.  _ Does he feel that too? _

Solas did in fact feel the sickness of the red lyrium, but was surprised she had picked up on it. It was a small enough trace, compared to what he could tell was lying ahead of them, that he doubted anyone without a certain sensitivity to magic would notice it. He would have to look into that further.

“The Breach is a  _ long  _ way up. Think you can manage it, Shorty?” Varric asked.

“Maybe if you let me stand on your shoulders.”

“You’re here! Thank the Maker,” Lelianna said from behind them. Cerys turned and gave her a wan smile and an awkward little wave.

“Hello to you too, my fellow ginger buddy.”

“Ginger, that might work,” Varric mused.

“Lelianna, have your men take up positions around the Temple,” Cassandra commanded. _I guess she could be a great Commander. Maybe I can get Cullen to retire early, get him a dog, a pretty partner, and set him up on that lake he loves. The man deserves a break. Hell, everyone I’m going to meet and have already met deserve a break._ Cassandra stood in front of Cerys and put her hand on her bicep to gain her attention. “This is your chance to end this. Are you ready?”

“Get me as close as you can and I’ll give it my all. Just don’t physically throw me at it. I like my bones unbroken.”

“This rift was the first, and it is the key. Seal it, and perhaps we seal the Breach.”

“Then let’s get down there and get after it, Nerd Boy,” Cerys stole Cassandra’s line. Solas did not look pleased with his new title. Cerys didn’t give a shit, especially as a booming voice echoed in the crater, seeming to come from inside her head.

“Now is the hour of our victory. Bring forth the sacrifice.”

“What are we hearing?” Cassandra sounded scared for the first time in their whole road trip.

“I’m guessing it’s the moments that led up to redecorating the Temple and sky, and giving me my new little body buddy,” Cerys groaned.

“Yes, it sounds as if we may be hearing the person who created the Breach.”

Cerys wrinkled her nose at the bloody smell/feeling of red lyrium. Like metal and humid heat, a body shop in muggy summers. 

“You know this stuff is red lyrium, Seeker.”

“I see it, Varric.”

“But what’s it doing here?”

“Magic could have drawn on lyrium beneath the Temple, corrupted it.” Solas watched as Cerys put her nose and mouth into the crook of her elbow, obviously fighting a repeat of her entrance to the Temple.

“Ugh, it’s evil. Whatever you do, don’t touch it.”

“Aye-aye, Captain,” Cerys saluted him sarcastically. She cringed when Corypheus began speaking again. 

“Keep the sacrifice still.”

“Someone, help me!” Justinia called. The terror and despair in her voice pulled tears into Cerys’ eyes.

“That is Divine Justinia’s voice!” Cassandra sounded heartbroken at hearing her friend’s voice. Cerys put a hand to the woman’s shoulder in comfort. 

They had reached the drop in point. Solas again went first, but Cassandra was so quick to follow that she caught Cerys while Solas helped Varric. Cassandra held Cerys’ shoulders a beat longer than was necessary to catch her balance and squeezed quickly and tightly before letting her go.

“Hey, Fugly, let her go! When a Lady says no, it means no!” Cerys’ disembodied bellow shook the rocks around them. The real elf was clutching her hand and struggling to stay standing as the mark pulsed and throbbed wildly.

_ Ah, so she  _ has _ always been like this. Good to know.  _ Solas thought, giving the redheaded elf an appraising glance. At least her personality hadn’t been altered by his magic, though he doubted _she_ would have been the result if it had.

“That was your voice. Most Holy called out to you, but…”

Cassandra was interrupted by the vision of the scene taking shape in front of them. Cerys looked the same as she had in her world, clothes and all. And she had her backpack!  _ Yes, so many goodies in there, hopefully they found that with me. _ Explaining things to her new friends would not be easy though, if she managed to survive the Pride demon.

“What are you wearing there, Ginger?”

“Run while you can! Warn them!”

“We have an invader, slay the Walker.”

The vision exploded into green-white light. 

“ _ You were there!  _ Who are you? Who attacked? And the Divine, is she…? Was this vision true? What is a Walker? What are we  _ seeing? _ ” Cassandra demanded. All of the kindness she had been showing Cerys melted away as her sword was drawn and she advanced upon her.

“I don’t know! I don’t remember! One second I was on my way to work, the next I’m chained and being questioned by you!”

“Echoes of what happened here. The Fade bleeds into this place. We will discuss your work before you came to be here later. For now, we must focus on the Breach. This Rift is not sealed, but it is closed, albeit temporarily. I believe that with the Mark the rift can be opened and then sealed, properly and safely.” Solas had so many questions. Starting with what work was appropriate for such a low-cut tunic and tight, short skirt. The thing barely came to her knees and she wore no stockings or breeches beneath it. She also had not been found in such clothes. “However, opening the rift will likely attract attention from the other side.”

“That means demons. Stand ready!” And with that, Cerys connected the Mark to the rift and opened it, setting all hell loose.

Cerys avoided the Pride demon as much as she could, sending out minimal arrows as she tried to connect the Mark to the rift and disturb it and give them an opening. It seemed that it took the Mark a few moments to gather enough energy to connect again, but when it did, the demon went to one knee at the sudden loss of connection. Cassandra wasted no time in gutting it. Ichor and chunky demon bits spilled over her and a few scouts who were standing unfortunately close by. The insides-now-outsides steamed disgustingly in the cold mountain air. Cerys took a deep breath and flung the Mark back at the rift, willing all of her energy and life force to charge it up faster and close the rift. It worked and the rift pop-fizzled-closed. Cerys hit the ground before Cassandra could wipe the demon gunk from her eyes.

* * *

Cerys was in her car. She could see herself in the little green hatchback she loved so much. It was the purchase that allowed her to finally leave that dick, Michael. But the Cerys in the car was not breathing and the car around her was mangled and destroyed. Blood ran from a point between her eyes, where fractured white bone shone through. She was dead. Or at least, that Cerys was. The Cerys that observed all this felt strangely fine, if a little sore and headachey. _Must have to do with the whole out of body, seeing your own corpse thing. Huh._

“Lauma, how good it is to see you again.”

Cerys whirled around to face a glowing gold figure.  _ Divine Justinia? _ The glow faded and revealed an old woman, though not as old looking as Justinia, with predatory, golden eyes. She wore a circlet with a diamond resting between her brows and horns that could either be part of the circlet, or perhaps they grew from her head. It was hard to tell.

“Mythal? What are you doing here? Who are you calling Lauma?” Cerys backed away, moving to press her back to the metal of the car. Instead, the image melted away like fog.

“Ah that’s right. Upon our last meeting you had taken the name Drynne, spurning the name I gave you. Though now you are Cerys, it would seem. It is so tedious keeping track of you, with all these name changes.” Mythal was only a step or two away from her now. “My dear child, it seems Justinia did not give you the gift I asked her to. I suppose I can forgive her, those little Nightmares were quite dogged in their assault. Who would have thought a Holy Woman afraid of spiders!”

“The fuck are you on about, lady?!”

“Ah, Lauma, Cerys, whatever, do not fret. All will be revealed in due time. For now, I need only a second of your trust. Approach.”

Cerys-Maybe-Lauma-Or-Drynne did not remember moving her feet, but suddenly Mythal was very close, pressing her painted, blood red lips gently to her forehead, right where the fracture had been on Not-Cerys-But-Definitely-Cerys. Pain exploded from the point of contact, as did bright golden light.

_ “Wake up!”  _ Mythal’s voice commanded in her mind.

* * *

Cerys’ body jerked upright and glass broke as it hit the floor. She couldn’t see except for the blinding golden light still consuming her sight after the dream. Someone gasped and backed away, staring into the golden glow of the Herald’s eyes and the fractured golden glow between them.

“I didn’t know you were awake, I swear!!” they yelped.

“Why do you sound scared? What’s happened? I can’t see anything!”

“That’s wrong isn’t it? I said the wrong thing. I know mages don’t like to be disturbed when they’re doing private magic.”

“What do you mean? Should I be scared? I can’t see a damned thing!”

A heavy thud of what sounded suspiciously like a body hitting the floor shook the wooden walls Cerys could now vaguely make out around her. A shape seemed to be kneeling, no, bowing, before her.

“I beg your forgiveness, and your blessing. I am but a humble servant. You are back in Haven, my lady. They say you saved us. The Breach stopped growing, just like the Mark on your hand,” they explained.

Cerys looked to the Mark. It sparked as she allowed her awareness to move through it. It didn’t hurt anymore.

“It’s all anyone has talked about for the last three days.”

“What is your name, da’len?” Cerys asked softly.

“Taralin, my Lady Herald. If I have displeased you, please, give me another chance! I don’t want to go back to scullery-”

“No, Taralin. I would just like to know your name so I can call you by it instead of “hey, you’ or something just as rude. My name is Cerys, you can call me by it. I refuse to be called by some title I did not give myself. Everyone out there… they’re not mad at me or anything, right?”

“I’m only saying what I heard, I didn’t mean anything by it. I’m certain Lady Cassandra would want to know you’ve wakened. She said ‘at once.’” Taralin stood and backed away.

“Then I will go see her now. Where can I find Cassandra?”

“In the Chantry with the Lord Chancellor.”

“Would you walk with me there?” Cerys called, stilling Taralin’s hand on the door knob.

“My Lady Her-Cerys, I don’t know that-”

“You are the one she assigned to serve me yes?” Cerys asked.

“Yes.”

“Then it would be a great service to me if you walked with me and helped me gain my bearings. I haven’t been here before. Please, Taralin?” Cerys had always felt guilty for the Inquisitor scaring this girl shitless upon first meeting. Though Taralin seemed more “they” than “she” here in whatever version of Thedas she had landed in.

“Of course, my Lady Cerys. I will walk you there,” Taralin seemed to settle down. “Though we may want to get you changed into something more...day appropriate.”

Cerys looked down at herself and saw, to her surprise, she was only in a long white nightgown. She looked to Taralin, confused.

“Ser Solas and I cared for you while you were asleep. He had already tended you when you were a prisoner and you are, ehm, a bit heavy for me to tend on my own. Don’t worry, my Lady, I made sure he kept his eyes closed when I bathed you and clothed you. The nightie was my idea. No one had any spare sleeping tunics and breeches that fit you comfortably.”

Well damn, her weird body type was still weird here in Thedas. Taralin had managed to find a grey, knit sweater that swallowed Cerys, but was at least cozy, and some brown breeches that fit over her thighs and bum but were definitely too long and had to be belted around her waist. Luckily, Cerys’ feet weren’t a weird size, so a short pair of boots worked just fine. They tucked the sweater in to at least attempt to not look like a square stacked onto a rectangle. Taralin helped comb her frizzy bed-head and braid it down her back. With her cuffed pants and rolled up sleeves, Cerys almost felt like herself.

“Thank you, Taralin. I almost feel...uh...good again.” She couldn’t really say “human” now could she.

Taralin led Cerys to the Chantry. Thankfully, there wasn’t a huge line of people lining the path like there had been in the game. They approached the door of what would be the War Room and Cerys stopped Taralin with a hand on their arm.

“Have you gone completely mad? She should be taken to Val Royeaux immediately, to be tried by whoever becomes Divine!” Chancellor Roderick could be heard raving.

“I do not believe she is guilty,” Cassandra defended her.  _ Atta girl _ .

“The elf failed, Seeker. The Breach is still in the sky. For all you know she intended it this way, little monster that she is.”

“I do not believe either of those sentiments, Chancellor.”

“That is not for you to decide. Your duty is to serve the Chantry!”

“My  _ duty  _ is to serve the principles on which the Chantry was founded. As is  _ yours. _ ”

“Yes Chancellor Raw-Dick, remember where your doodies lie,” Cerys filled her voice with the same scorn he held in his as she burst through the door unannounced. 

“Chain her. I want her prepared for travel to the capital for trial. Maybe gag her too, save us all some headache,” he commanded.  _ Like you have any authority. _

“Disregard that, and leave us,” Cassandra said, almost distracted.

The two guards on either side of the door saluted Cassandra and took their leave. Cerys swore she heard them laughing in their little tin-man suits.

“You walk a dangerous line, Seeker.”

“The Breach is stable, but it is still a threat. I will not ignore it.”

“Okay, suspicious asshole, leave us so we can get down to the real business here. Cassandra saw what happened and kicked demon ass. You stood on a bridge while we took care of business. You are not needed here, at the moment at least,” Cerys flicked her hand at the door, dismissing him.

“I am a suspect?” Not what she had been going for.

“You and many others. But the prisoner’s name-” Lelianna stepped in.

“Cerys, by the way, lovely to meet you Lelianna.”

“Likewise. Cerys’ name has been cleared by the Most Holy herself.”

“I heard the voices in the Temple. The Divine called to her for help.”

“So her survival, that  _ thing _ on her hand-all a coincidence?”

“Providence. The Maker sent her to us in our darkest hour,” Cassandra sounded reverent. She looked to Cerys like someone might look to a crucifix in church.  _ Ugh, nope, hate that. _

“I don’t believe in the Maker, or anything for that matter, but I’m not going to tell you you’re wrong. Who knows, I may be the one in the wrong not to believe. Also, elf, remember? Wouldn’t it be weird for the Maker to send an elf?” Cerys wanted to nip all this Divine-Providence, Holy-Mother-Andraste’s-Handy-Potter shit in the butt right now.

“I have not forgotten. No matter what you are, or what you believe, you are exactly what we needed, when we needed it.” Cassandra turned to grab something.

“The Breach remains , and your Mark is still our only hope of closing it,” Lelianna told Cerys.

“This is not for you to decide,” the Chancellor growled.

**_THUMP!_ ** Cassandra slammed a book onto the table in the middle of the room.

“You know what this is, Chancellor. A writ from the Divine, granting us the authority to act. As of this moment, I declare the Inquisition reborn. We will close the breach, we will find those responsible, and we  _ will _ restore order. With, or without, your approval.” Cassandra advanced on Roderick throughout her whole speech. After he exited the room, Cerys let out a low whistle and looked at Lelianna.

“Is she always that hot when she’s putting men in their place? Almost makes me wish I was one,” Cerys smirked at the Hands of the Divine. Cassandra blushed vibrantly red while scoffing derisively. Lelianna laughed at Cerys as the elf licked her lips suggestively, still looking awed. 

“I believe she may give you a verbal lashing if you ask nicely enough. Now, this is the Divine’s directive: rebuild the Inquisition of old. Find those who will stand against the chaos. We aren’t ready. We have no leader, no numbers, and now no Chantry support.” Lelianna sounded a bit gutted there at the end.

“But we have no choice: we must act now, with you at our side.”

“Before we agree on anything, I refuse to spread any sort of religion. I don’t know that you can stop those who already believe I’m some sort of Herald as my new friend Taralin called me, but I will not have anyone calling me that in an official sense.”

“But the Inquisition-” Lelianna began to say.

“I’m not here for the Inquisition, something born of the Chantry, of Andrastianism, whether you say it or not. I’m here to stop the hole in the sky, whoever made it, and to prevent the people who want to rip each other apart from doing so, especially from doing it near innocent people.” Cerys needed to make herself clear.

“I don’t see that you have anything to bargain with us, what’s to stop us from continuing to spread word using the Herald of Andraste’s name.” Lelianna was trying to steamroll her. Cerys could do it right back.

“Oh, I dunno, I could cut my hand off. Throw it in a fire. Throw myself into a fire. Throw myself from a high place. Drink poison. I could-”

“Duly noted.”

“Wether or not this war is Holy...that depends on what we discover,” Cassandra told Cerys.

“I agree to restore order, but I will have opinions on exactly what “restoring order” means.”

“I expected nothing less. Help us fix this, before it is too late,” Cassandra smiled at her and extended a hand. Cerys shook it with both of hers.

“Now, who do I have to blow to get some decent clothes in this place?”

* * *

Solas felt a flicker of magic in the Fade as he approached the Mark Bearer’s dream. She had been in such a deep, healing sleep ever since they brought her back to Haven he was surprised to see her dream at all on her third day of rest. Her mind had not once touched the Fade since the incident at the Temple. He had checked every spare moment he had, meditating often in her cabin to give him the best chance at finding her. It was easy to slip in and out, unnoticed, as he was unofficially her caretaker, along with the slight elf. Taralin was a strange sort of servant, giving him orders to preserve “the Lady Herald’s” “modesty” as they bathed, clothed, and generally attended to her nearly lifeless body. Taralin had obviously not met Cerys when the foul-mouthed woman was awake. He doubted she had an ounce of shame over her body and the sight of it, given the way she had flirted and joked all the way up the mountain. Then again, he had been wrong about her assumed reaction to the corpses. All three of her companions, him included, walked by them with barely more than a “what a pity, sorry you died.” Meanwhile, she had lost all of the nerve and steadiness she had displayed in combat, physical and verbal.

Solas was pulled from his meditation and attempt to dip into Cerys’ dream by a large surge of magic that shook both the physical world and the Fade. It came from her cabin. He stood from his perch on the rocks by his cabin, brushed his leggings of the snowflakes they had collected, and started towards the source of the magic, confused. He had not sensed any magic in her beyond his own Mark and doubted that he missed any lying beneath his magical aura. (It was still slightly strange to almost feel traces of his magic living outside of him when he searched for magic nearby.) Now though, he could feel a small, blue flame of magic, contained in a ring of  _ gold? _ The last aura he knew of as gold had lived in the Koccari Wilds and had not allowed itself to be found in nearly ten years. 

He stopped just around the corner from Cerys’ cabin, focusing on the movements of the little aura. It wasn’t even large enough to encompass her body as most auras do, and instead hung aloft, about the height of her eyes. There was 10 or 15 minutes of shuffling and little movements in the cabin before Cerys exited with Taralin. The young, slender elf was half a head taller than the rounder red-head, and led her quickly to the Chantry. The little blue flame sat on the Mark Bearer’s brow, just between her eyes, looking like a jewel wrapped in a golden setting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and Comments make my heart go pitter-patter.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took me forever and a half. I wrote so many things just to cut them and re-work it over and over again. Sorry it wasn't up sooner, but I hope you enjoy a little peek into who Cerys was, loooong ago. I'm also trying to slowly increase the chapter length so you get more content per chapter, I hope you'll enjoy that.

Cerys was led to the market by Taralin, who had briefed Josephine on their lady’s need for proper clothing while Cerys met with Cassandra and Lelianna. They took her to a female merchant who obviously sold fabric by the bolt.

“The Lady Herald is in need of fabric for proper clothing. You will give her your finest and settle payment with Lady Josephine of the Inquisition,” Taralin spoke with authority to the merchant. They seemed used to being a fancy lady’s maid. The merchant raised a brow and scoffed lightly.

“It doesn’t have to be your finest. I just need something that keeps me not-naked and not-freezing-to-death.” 

Cerys shot Taralin a lightly disapproving look when the merchant turned to dig through her cart for a bolt. Taralin nearly cowed before they straightened under Cerys’ eyes and returned the disapproval. Cerys turned her eyes back to the returning merchant and accepted a bolt of grey velveteen fabric.

“No one around here has any interest in the finer fabrics I have. Seeing as my horses were acquired by some thieves fleeing the conclave, that will just sit and mildew in this snow if it is not used before I can acquire new ones,” the merchant griped.

“Ask Josephine to supply you with horses as well as your price for the fabric. Tell her I insisted you receive it for your generosity,” Cerys offered. The merchant gave Cerys a once over before gesturing to her pants.

“I can tailor those to fit you better if you like, make a pattern for them as well. As a thank you for the horses, if this Josephine does provide them. You will look ridiculous if you run around in nothing but grey velvet and your shape requires a practiced hand if you wish to show it properly.”

“I would appreciate that, I think, thank you.”

Taralin pulled Cerys away and back to her cabin. Solas was sitting in the chair by the fireplace, reading, when they entered. He put the book aside and stood after he marked his place with a rumbled scrap of parchment.

“It is good to see you up and about again, Lady Herald,” he scorned at the title, quite obviously.

“Solas, you know my name, call me by it. Unless you’d like me to start calling you nicknames, Chuckles,” Cerys teased him. “Thank you for helping keep me alive, once again. Should I start counting the lives I owe to you? We’re up to three by now, I’m sure.”

“Three? I have only watched over your nearly lifeless body twice, where are you getting this third?”

“Oh, I’m sure we would have all died on that mountain if you hadn’t grabbed my ass when we entered the Temple of Sacred Ashes. Or at least in combat with my slow aim and without your magical prowess.” Cerys set down the bolt of fabric against a wall. She was poking him, trying to get a rise.

“Do not blush so, Peach, there’s simply so much of it I could not avoid your buttocks as I helped you down into the Temple,” he smirked at her wolfishly. Taralin moved behind him, roughly edging him to the door.

“Ser Solas, your help these past few days has been appreciated, but you will not speak to my Lady like this when you are in her private quarters. I must insist you leave so that I may begin measuring her for clothing.” 

Solas shot Taralin a grimace. The young elf could be entirely too “Orlesian Servant” for his liking. That is what they had been until recently though, a servant to the Divine herself who had been sent to Haven the morning of the explosion for a particular herb the Divine enjoyed on her roast druffalo.

“Actually, I have a private matter to speak with Cerys about, if neither of you mind my imposition,” he played the humble apostate again. It had always worked to soothe these propriety fits Taralin was sent into these past few days. It worked again as the elf looked to their Lady and left after Cerys nodded at them with a smile.

“Do you think they have an off-switch?” Cerys asked as she flopped backwards across the bed. Solas looked at her, mildly perplexed.  _ Off-switch? _

“I don’t know what you mean by that.”

“Not important. What did you need to talk to me about, Solas?” She propped herself up on her elbows, swinging her legs slightly as they hung off the bed.

“I have become aware of a change in you since you stopped the Breach’s spreading and would like to examine it further.” He skirted the truth skillfully.

“Sure, knock yourself out.” 

She let herself fall flat again and stuck her marked hand in the air, reaching towards him. He moved to her side, still standing, and held her hand gently in his. Nothing had changed with the Mark since the spreading had stopped. It did not seem stronger, nor did it seem to have power beyond her wrist. He pulled it closer to him, earning a little huff from the woman the arm was attached to. Swiftly, she turned her hand in his, grabbed his wrist, and pulled him to sit on the bed, hip-to-hip with her.

“My shoulders already hurt from so much archery, no need to pull one out of socket jerking my hand around like that,” she grumbled at him.

This position was better as he could more easily see the little jewel of an aura on her brow. What was not better was the proximity of his touch starved body pressing almost intimately to the body of a soft woman, her hand still wrapped gently around his wrist. The combined weight of their bodies on the squishy mattress made scooting away difficult to do subtly, so he accepted the mild awkwardness of their bodies pressing together.

“Have you ever shown any proclivity towards magic, Cerys? Do you perhaps have mages in your family?” He turned her hand over in his, trailing a finger down the glowing seam of his mark absently. She shivered under his touch, it felt strangely intimate. She could feel the magic reaching to him, knowing who it belonged to.  _ Weird, I couldn’t really feel that before when he made me close that rift. _

“No and no. Why?”

“All mages have an aura, a constant manifestation of their magic that can be felt and sometimes seen by other mages. It is not an innate ability to sense the auras, not in this age, but it is also not unheard of. Before, I could sense no aura on you. Now, you definitely have one, though it is the smallest I have seen.” She squirmed at his words and he shot her a questioning look.

“Sorry, you seem so serious. I’m physically holding back my dick jokes,” she giggled and held her free hand to her lower belly, making a face of feigned pain. He rolled his eyes and let out a scoff that could be misconstrued as a laugh.

“Perhaps small was not the best way to put it. With practice, auras can be projected or drawn in at will. Weak, perhaps dim, are better suited for my meaning.”

“Are you calling my aura stupid?” He rolled his eyes, placing her hand over the other resting on her stomach.

“It may be easier to show you than to explain verbally, since you seem set on misunderstanding me.” 

He laid his torso on the bed beside her, turning to his side as he did so. He kept as much distance between them as he could, practically leaning away from her. Cerys turned to her side as well, head propped on one hand, mirroring his posture while not leaning away. Her knees drew higher onto the bed and bumped his thighs as she curled up. Solas put his hand in front of her face, a few inches from touching her, one finger between his face and her aura. His aura reached to hers and flicked against it gently. The blue jewel was as hot as flame but she was the one to jump back as if burned, cutting a moan off with her hand clamping over her mouth.

“What the  _ FUCK _ was that!?”

“That was my aura, brushing yours, lethallan. I was wrong with all of my descriptors. Your aura is not small, dim, or weak, but tightly contained.” Solas studied her brightly flushed face and stunned expression, confused. He had barely ghosted a touch and she acted as if he had grabbed her inappropriately without warning.

“That doesn’t explain why it felt like you were touching my entire body! Buy a girl dinner first, sheesh!!” She sighed, rolling away from him a ways. 

It was Solas’ turn to blush. He had not considered that she would feel anything beyond the confines of the aura, but since the aura typically covered a mage’s entire body and was sensed almost like a skin over the physical skin, it made sense that his pushing against her confined aura was felt  _ everywhere _ as she had said. If her reaction was anything to go by it had also felt quite pleasant. He could feel her aura reaching back out to his as she studied him. Subconsciously, her tongue flicked out to caress her upper lip. He cleared his throat and looked away, sitting up.

“We will need to study this further, see if this aura means you can use magic or if it is a simple side effect of the Mark.”

Shuffling alerted him to Cery’s movements as she sat up on the bed, resting her back against the wall. When he managed to look at her again her hair was mussed, strands poking out of the once neat braid wildly, and her too-large sweater had slipped off one shoulder, exposing the freckles splashed there and across her decollete. Heavily lashed green eyes peered back at him, pulling him into the golden center.  _ Nope, just because she’s easy to look at does not mean she’s interesting beyond her marked hand and weird aura. _ His brain agreed, but his body differed in opinion.

“As long as you don’t do whatever you just did again, I’d like to learn. Will you teach me?” She asked him earnestly. She practically batted her long lashes at him.

_ Fenedhis. _

“It would be a pleasure, lethallan. To begin, I’d like you to take up meditating. First thing tomorrow, meet me at the tavern and I will find a place to guide you through some meditation exercises.”

“I’ve tried meditation before, wasn’t really fond of it.”

“It is not for you to feel one way or another about it, it is to focus your mind enough to sense magical auras. If you wish to try another method, you may find another teacher.” He stood then, needing to put distance between them, to be on his own again. “You may find that difficult, given there are precious few mages present at Haven, fewer still who would not hand you over to Templars immediately upon discovering your newfound abilities.”

“Fine, I will see you first thing in the morning,” she huffed and stood as well, walking him to the door. 

Taralin stood close by, watching the door from outside and hurried over once they realized Solas was leaving. They gave him a curt nod before slipping into the cabin with Cerys again.

“Lady Cerys, I must take some measurements so that I may begin sewing a set of clothes for you. Please, disrobe and stand in the center of the room so I may begin.”

Cerys did as she was told, all the while thinking about the little flicker of a blush that had passed over Solas’ face upon her asking him to teach her.  _ God, that nerd is too damn cute for an ancient trickster god. It’s unfair of him to fill two of my favorite tropes at once. _ As Taralin darted around her with what seemed to be a cloth measuring tape, Cerys went over her time in Thedas mentally. She was sure this wasn’t a dream, usually sleeping in a dream meant you were going to wake up, and she could remember all of her waking moments here quite easily and not in a disjointed dreamy way. So she really had been transported into a video game franchise. Or was absolutely crazy in a facility somewhere. Still, that didn’t explain Mythal coming to her in a dream, spouting nonsense, and giving her an explosive forehead kiss. Also she had called her Lauma. Who or what in the hell was  _ Lauma _ ? She may have to ask Solas, it was surely an Elvhen word, given that it came from Mythal herself. And just now, Solas had sorta-kinda touched the same spot Mythal had kissed and given her an  _ incredibly _ good feeling all over her body. Just thinking about it made her skin tingle. 

_Fucking hell, next thing you know someone’s going to be telling me I’m some sort of spirit shoved into the body of a half-dead elf like Cole._ _Cole...Hmm…_. Cerys was half tempted to recruit the Templars now, just to get to the spirit boy faster, see if he could dig around her head and tell her what the fuck was going on, but she knew she could never do that. She always recruited the Mages because she felt it was always better to side with the oppressed rather than the oppressors. 

A gentle pat to her shoulder pulled her from her thoughts. Taralin was finished measuring her and the sun was setting.

“My Lady, is there anything else you need before I go off for the night?” They asked gently. They were sure their lady was deep in thought. It was to be expected, she had the hopes of the entire world on her shoulders now. Their previous lady had been much the same way in quiet moments.

“Uh, could you point me to the tavern? I’d like to grab a bite, maybe a drink.”

“Of course, I will take you there on my way back to the Chantry. That is where my quarters are, should you have need of me and I’m not at hand. Lady Josephine said she had a tab set up for you since you did not have any money when they found you,” Taralin answered. They picked up the bolt and Cerys opened the door, following them out into the crisp evening. They walked in companionable silence to the tavern.

“Thank you, Taralin. I appreciate everything you have done for me these past few days. If there is anything you need from me, ever, anything at all, you ask me, okay?” Cerys smiled. Taralin blushed and nodded, saying a quiet goodnight as they hurried off back to their quarters.

The tavern was warm and smelled of cooking meat and beer.  _ Smells like a barbecue. _ Cerys went to the bar and requested a meal (it seemed one large meal was cooked and served, no menus and options) and whatever wine was sweetest and fruitiest. After she was handed her plate and glass, she scanned the tables, hoping for a familiar face. She lucked out, Varric was sitting at a table against the back wall, scribbling away in a notebook, papers spread around him. She took her meal over and sat across from him, carefully nudging papers out of the way of her plate. Varric looked up and helped her by gathering a few papers into a loose stack.

“So, the Herald of Andraste has come to eat her dinner among the common folk,” he teased. Cerys rolled her eyes and gave a little scoffing laugh.

“No, the weird elf that fell from a hole in reality with the ability to save the world is here to eat dinner with the one familiar face in the building after a long, weird day.” She took a big bite of roasted potato and squinted her eyes at him happily as she chewed. Varric laughed as he finished whatever he was writing with a flourish of his quill. He finally looked up at her, taking in her borrowed clothes. She self-consciously plucked at the neckline. “Part of my long day was getting fabric for clothes that fit.”

“You may want to spend tomorrow getting some armor that fits as well. That scout coat Lelianna gave you could fit a Human man.”

“Yeah, I guess. I just hate that I have to send my expenses to a mysterious Josephine. I haven’t even met her and I’m making her pick up my bills. First thing tomorrow, I’ll meet my mysterious benefactor. It’ll be like a mob story.”

“Mob?”

“Eh, the closest thing to it I can think of is the Carta. A Carta story. Do you have any of those? You said you were a storyteller. I’d like to read something of yours, anything you recommend?”

“I wrote one, it had a small release in Orzammar but never really found its niche. Organized crime isn’t a very popular subject for entertainment when there’s darkspawn or actual organized crime to worry about. I’m not sure what to recommend, what do you like?”

“Well, action and magic are always fun, but I’m sure I’ll get my fair share of that during the days to come. I like non-fiction stuff I can learn from. I’m a sucker for a steamy romance, anything to fill the void of my non-existent love life. Shit, I’d just like to have a book to read. I don’t have a single scrap of paper to my name, at the moment.” Cerys took another bite of her dinner (sweet stewed carrots and a little hunk of meat). Varric held up a finger and bent to root around in a bag at his feet. He presented her with a plain brown cloth bound book.

“Don’t tell anyone about this, Ginger. That book won’t be out for another year, and that’s a proof copy so there are all kinds of errors in it. It’s a loan, to tide you over until we can get you something else.” Varric said very seriously.

“Thank you so much! I really appreciate it, I’ll be very sneaky with it. No one will ever know I’ve read your secret book until the day it comes out and then I’ll spoil the end in very cryptic ways.” Cerys held the book like it was a sacred object, kissing the cover before putting her forehead to it. The author laughed at her shenanigans. She stashed it under her thigh so she wouldn’t accidentally get food or wine on it. “Also, I don’t know if Ginger is gonna work out. I already mentally call Lelianna that.”

“Well shit, kid, what can I call you? You said your name means love, and you like romance. Rose? No, that’s not you, you’re too prickly for something so soft. Also I called someone else that a long time ago. Nothing I throw at you sticks!” Varric threw his hands up jokingly. “I give up on you. You’ll be the death of my nicknaming reputation.”

Cerys laughed before continuing her meal. She and Varric sat in companionable silence, occasionally commenting on the people around them, making up little stories for the interesting ones. Her meal finished and her second glass of wine nearing empty, Cerys scanned the room for a new target in their game. Her eyes gravitated to Solas who had been sitting at the bar having a drink. Now he was standing, leaning against the bar, collecting a meal and a drink. She caught his eye, waved him over and Varric moved a few more papers to clear a spot for him. The Elvhen man sat by the author, across from Cerys. The barmaid wasn’t far behind him, refilling Cerys’ glass.

“Is that wise, da’len? You have an early start tomorrow,” Solas chided. Cerys rolled her eyes and took a sip.  _ God that’s nice wine _ . 

“It’s not that strong. Have a sip, see for yourself.” She offered him the glass. He took it, allowing his overly warm fingers to brush over hers. He swirled it around, giving it a little sniff. A quick, mischievous smile over the rim and he emptied the wine glass in two gulps. Cerys made a grab for the glass, earning a splinter in her hand from the rough table. “Hey! I didn’t not pay for that for you, mister!”

“It is delicious, however it is also Orlesian, and so deceptively strong. I had a glass of this myself while I waited for my meal. Have some water,” he put his own tankard in front of her. 

Cerys huffed, putting a hand to her overly warm cheek. Perhaps she was a bit farther down the road to drunk than she had thought. She took two sips of water before handing the tankard back to him and worrying at one hand with the other. Varric observed silently, smiling slightly.  _ Maybe that love life isn’t as non-existent as you think, She-Who-Will-Not-Be-Nicknamed. _ Cerys stuck her hand out to Varric.

“I can’t get that out, can you?” she pouted. 

_ Definitely more drunk than we realized, _ Varric thought. He held her hand and gently pushed the splinter out, grabbing it and tossing it to the floor. Cerys smiled and patted his hands with hers as thanks. Solas observed them, his own small smile peeking through. The night continued with the game Cerys had taught Varric, Solas snorting and adding snide comments periodically. It was three hours after sunset when Cerys stood and stretched.

“Well, I’m bushed. I’ll see you tomorrow morning, Solas. Varric, I’ll be bugging you soon as well I’m sure. I can shoot alright but I’d love to learn some tricks of the rogue trade from you,” she grinned at the dwarf.

“Sure thing, Thorn,” he chuckled. The nickname made her smile and he knew he’d found the right one.

“On era’vun, lethallan.”

Cerys gave a final wave, picked up her new book, and headed to her cabin. Her fire burned merrily in the hearth and lit the space warmly. She found a few candles and what appeared to be punk sticks, like what she had used to light fireworks as a kid. She held one to the fire and used it to light two candles on her bedside and settled in to read the book Varric had given her. Within a few pages she realized it must be Cassandra’s favorite series,  _ Swords and Shields. _ Cerys would have to convince her new friend to lend this to Cassandra if it didn’t come out on schedule. She read for a while, reaching chapter three before she felt herself begin to nod off. Marking her place with the chord from her braid, she blew out her candles and stripped to just the overly large sweater and cuddled into the blankets, still warm from her body heat.

* * *

In the Fade, Cerys found herself in front of Mythal (though she looked very different now, Cerys knew it was her) and another elf with her Vallaslin. They seemed displeased to see her, if the sword held to her throat was any indication.

“What the fuck, lady?! Call him off, I haven’t done anything!” Cerys yelled, startled

“Lauma, my Sorrow, what has become of you?” Mythal asked, stepping away from her slightly.

“Do not call me by that name, Mythal. I am no longer the weeping child, nor are you. You know what could have stopped the spread of this and you did not do it. You chose to allow your children to fester with Greed and Pride over the Titan’s blood. You allowed them to spread the illness from one to the other. An illness of your making. Now I have gained the wisdom, the depth, to ask you to cut the serpent off at the head, prevent this from spreading any further.” Cerys heard her voice say. Her body advanced on the Elvhen Mythal without her command. The mana sword the male had directed at her vanished and she knew it had been her own whim that caused it. “You must stop this or they will destroy Arlathan, all of the empire will crumble.”

“And what, exactly, shall I do? Kill my children, my husband? You ask too much. There is no guarantee their deaths will end the spread.” Mythal spat.

“You mixed your blood with that of a Titan, an experiment you knew could have dire consequence. You know that you must submit yourself to the Titans to atone for your tampering, give them your spirit to balance the blood that was injected into them. I hear the lyrium sing, I hear them call for your aide, your sacrifice. I was born of you, you must know that I knew the moment of my birth was not simply your sorrow for Andruil, but for those you hurt with your selfish experimentation.” Cerys’ body drew a deep breath. “You will call me Drynne, and you will honor my name with your death.”

Cerys’ body leapt towards the Evanuris but was pushed aside by the male elf and pinned to the floor. Fear shot through her, cold and painful.

“You will leave this place, Lauma, or die if you persist,” he commanded. 

She saw now that her body was not hers, not entirely. It was a deep indigo blue that seemed almost like a non-Newtonian fluid as the elf’s hands began to sink into the not-quite-flesh of it. She felt the body quiver violently before she jolted upright, the scene around her changing abruptly. She was in a field now, bright with sunshine. A stone gazebo sat in the shadow of a huge wolf statue. Solas sat at a table in the structure, looking into the field anxiously. When his eyes met hers he seemed to relax.

“Lethallan, I hoped you would be able to find me here. Are you alright?” he stood and approached her prone form. Cerys looked to see she was herself again, pale, freckled, and completely solid.

“Yeah. I was having a weird dream, a nightmare, really. Are we in the Fade?”

Solas helped her to stand and walked her to the table. He sat across from her and folded his hands atop it. 

“Yes. Would you like to discuss your dream?”

Fear ran through her again and she felt it pertinent to keep the dream to herself, at least until she could examine it more. So many words had been exchanged that she felt sure she had misunderstood.

“No. I’d rather hear about your journeys here.” He looked concerned and like he would insist upon hearing the dream. “Please, Solas, my dream wasn’t important. Take my mind off it.”

Solas was reluctant to move on from the subject. Her dream had again been protected by a golden aura, like the one surrounding her own. He had been unable to even gain a peek into the golden dome around the swirling indigo walls of the dream. When her fear had drawn malevolent spirits, he pulled her to this field he had constructed for himself. Looking into her eyes, he saw the emotion still lingering there along with confusion. He sighed and decided to humor her for the time being. He could press for details at a later time. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PS I use the FenXShiral elven lexicon for my elven and for the names I choose for any elf characters I name. Do y'all want me to put translations in the notes? Lemme know and I'll do it. So far I've only used simple words that I'm sure solasmancers recognize more or less or are easy to figure out with context, but it'll be good to have the input.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to get 800 more words in but I also didn't want to leave you guys without a chapter this weekend. Plus, my life is a fucking mess right now, and writing this gives me a marginal sense of control.

The next morning, Cerys woke to Taralin laying a grey velvet shirt over the back of a chair, along with some purpley-grey leather breeches.

“Good morning, Taralin,” Cerys yawned. Taralin turned and smiled at her warmly.

“Good morning, Lady Cerys. Lady Cassandra has donated a pair of her breeches to your wardrobe. Your measurements are surprisingly similar, I only had to take them up a ways and in at the waist,” the cheery elf informed her. “I set some hygiene items on the desk for you and filled your basin with fresh water. Lady Lelianna and Lady Josephine have sent along some cosmetics should you wish to use them. Is there anything I can help you with?”

“Thank you, Taralin. I’ll have to thank everyone else after my meeting with Solas. I think I’ll be okay from here, Solas and I will probably grab some breakfast before our meeting. You can take some time to yourself today. I’ll find you if I need you, but I’ll try not to,” she smiled. Taralin almost looked uncomfortable at getting time off. “I mean it when I say take time for yourself, it’s as important as getting enough food and sleep. Seeing as you made me a whole shirt last night, I’m betting you didn’t sleep much.”

Taralin blushed at being called out on their late night so easily. Instead of arguing, which they had been taught to never do when given an order, they left with a quiet goodbye and an assurance that Cerys could call on them should she need to.

The basin was positioned by the desk and was newly appointed with a mirror just large enough for Cerys to see her entire face. She looked much the same as she had before coming to Thedas, but was instantly shocked by the twin streaks of deep blue that swept down her cheeks from the inner corner of her eyes. Her green eyes were still wide and sad, flecked with gold around the pupil. Her long, straight nose led down to her full, pouty mouth. Her two front teeth still had a noticeable gap. She spent a moment, tracing the lines down her cheeks, wondering at their meaning. She didn’t remember any Vallaslin that resembled them. Perhaps they were only partial? She would have to poke around and see if she could find any information on Vallaslin designs. It was entirely possible that they differed from clan to clan, even if subtly. _ In any case, I should get my ass in gear if I don’t want to be chewed out by the Dread Wolf. _

Cerys found a minty powder and a wood-handled toothbrush on the wooden desk next to the basin. With a little water the powder formed a nice paste which she brushed her teeth with. The bar of soap she was given had an earthy, almost musky scent and she used it to take what her mother had called a “whore’s” bath, just the pits and bits. The cosmetics were surprisingly like modern cosmetics and easily decipherable. A deep plum powder served as a smudgy liner when used with a wet angle brush. Loose, peach blush brought some color to her cheeks. She applied the cake mascara with the same brush she used for the liner and smudged it over the outer corner of her lower lash-line. A little tin held a dark red balm which she sniffed before applying it to her lips, recognizing the beeswax smell of handmade lipstick from her friend’s old home makeup line. The deep red went on translucently, giving the look of berry-stained lips. As she examined her finished face, she was quite proud of herself. The makeup enhanced her features and complemented her new facial markings charmingly. Her hair, on the other hand, could use some taming. She wet her hands and ran them over and through the frizzy waves and left them down to dry, hoping the dry mountain air meant she wouldn’t have a giant red bush on her head by the end of the day. She put on the clothes Taralin left for her and called it good for the day.

* * *

Solas waited for Cerys outside of the tavern for a half hour before she finally arrived. He took in her made up face and nearly scoffed. She had taken time to primp herself before their meeting and kept him waiting far longer than he would have liked to. He wasn’t used to waiting on others.

“You’ve finally risen. Good. Tomorrow you will refrain from making yourself up before our meeting, so I will not be kept waiting all morning,” he snarked. She glared back at him.

“Someone’s not a morning person,” she grouched. “Listen, I haven’t been able to care for myself or my appearance since my life was turned upside down by a giant hole in the sky and my hand. If I want to take ten minutes to make myself feel nice, I’m gonna.”

“Follow me,” he said simply, ignoring her sass.

Solas led Cerys up the stairs by his cabin and told her to sit on the cool rocks he had been sitting on when he sensed her aura for the first time. He joined her, a foot or so away, and sat beside her silently a while. He watched her breathing, shallower and more rapid than most people’s resting breath, anxious. He took her hand and placed it flat against him just below his ribs. She gave him a strange look as he held her hand there. He ignored the fluttering in his stomach at the contact he established as well as the way her green eyes seemed even more golden in the morning sun.

“Close your eyes and match your breathing to mine.”

She obeyed, turning forwards again and closing her eyes. He took the opportunity to examine her face, even as he consciously slowed his breathing to a deep, steady rhythm. She was obviously practiced using cosmetics and knew what features to highlight for greatest effect on her appearance without overpowering the natural appeal she possessed. It vexed him to admit he found her beautiful, even to himself. Her curiosity about the Fade and what he observed there last night intrigued him more than he was comfortable with letting it. When he added in the mysterious markings on her face, her shrouded dreams, the fact that she used his Anchor easily, her passionate spirit, and the million other little mysteries he almost sensed about her, he knew pursuing his current course of action as her mentor could lead him down a dangerous road. He would have to establish boundaries between them if he wished to stay near his Anchor. 

“Should I be doing anything besides breathing? Like clearing my mind or focusing on something?” her questions interrupted his stream of thoughts.

“Your aura is concentrated between your brows. It is blue, encased in gold. Visualize it, try to peel the gold away, let the blue grow and encompass you,” he instructed. 

His thumb mindlessly ran over her knuckles where it still held her hand to his body. He watched as her aura flickered like flames within the gold casing. A few tendrils sparked over the line here and there, but after ten minutes, her brow creased in concentration, Cerys began to sweat with the effort. Her eyes screwed up and she grunted in frustration as she stood suddenly, her hand ripping out of his.

“I can see it, but no matter how hard I push I can’t get it out of there!” she yelled and threw her hands into the air.

“It will take time, lethallan. I am proud you managed to sense it today, I expected it to take at least two sessions before you could. Have you tried to perform any magic?” he tried to soothe her anger at herself. Generally sensing auras was intermediate level magic in the current world. To go from no magic at all to sensing her aura in one meditation was cause for pride.

“I haven’t thought to.”

He scoffed at her answer as he stood.  _ She hadn’t thought to use magic after hearing she suddenly has it. A strange woman indeed. _ He conjured a small veilfire in his palm and held it out to her.

“Take this into your hands. It will not burn you,” he assured. She followed his instruction and he kept it burning steadily. “Now, will it to grow.”

Cerys focused her mind on the flame, using the same breathing pattern he had silently taught her, and asked the flame to grow. When it merely flickered more insistently every once in a while she pushed harder into it. Every time it seemed about to flame higher, it sizzled back to it’s beginning state. She closed her eyes and gave one final shove of mental energy into the flame.

Solas was no longer feeding the flame and he smiled as she kept it going, obviously missing that he had drawn his own magic out of the flame. When it burst into an inferno that leapt up her arms he knocked her cupped hands apart and squashed the veilfire with his aura.

“Very well done, but do not encase yourself in flames, not even veilfire. It is not a good habit to form,” he chided. She looked confused. “Before you closed your eyes you were feeding the flame on your own, where I had been assisting. I kept the flame small until you fed it yourself.”

She huffed and blew a strand of her from her eyes. “Warn a girl next time.”

He simply smiled at her in answer.

“Do you have any other lessons planned, hahren?” she teased him. “Or can I go get some breakfast?”

“Go eat, da’len. I hear Cassandra has things she wishes to discuss with you today. I will inform her you are at the tavern,” he teased her back. The teasing was pleasant, but he would have to keep it simply friendly.  _ Keep her close, but not too close. _

* * *

Cassandra came to fetch Cerys just as she finished her porridge and berries. The warrior marched her up to the chantry before Cerys could say  _ Dread Wolf take you _ . As they walked side-by-side towards the war room, Cassandra spoke.

“Does it trouble you?”

“Not particularly. I just want to finish closing the Breach and get it off me so I can live for me again, not all of Thedas.”

“What’s important is that the Mark is now stable, as is the Breach. You’ve given us time, and Solas believes a second attempt might succeed - provided the Mark has more power, the same level of power used to open the Breach in the first place. That is not easy to come by.”

“Yeah, sure. How horrible would it be for us to juice up something we barely understand? What could possibly go wrong?”

“Hold on to your sense of humor, Cerys,” Cassandra laughed lightly.

Cerys followed her into the war room and nearly squealed with excitement when she saw all three advisors standing around the table. She had, as one character or another, romanced them all and found them all charming in their own ways.  _ I wonder if this world’s Warden is involved with Leliana or someone else.  _

“May I present Commander Cullen, leader of the Inquisition’s forces.”

Cullen looked at Cerys and she felt her heart flutter. He seemed much larger now that she occupied the same reality as him. She always had been torn between big, good-hearted warriors and sexy, broody elves. Now seemed no different.

“Such as they are. We lost a good many soldiers in the valley, and I fear we will lose many more before this is through.” 

The Commander’s raspy voice was music to her ears as he looked her up and down, no doubt taking her measure as a fighter.  _ Always strategic, that brain. I’m sure of it. _

“This is Lady Josephine Montilyet, our ambassador and chief diplomat.”

“Andaran atish’an,” Josephine greeted her.

“Hey. Nice elvish,” Cerys couldn’t remember the correct answer to that greeting, if there was one.

“You’ve just heard the entirety of it, I’m afraid.”

“And of course you know Sister Leliana.”

“My position here involves a degree of…”

“She is our spymaster,” Cassandra blurted.

“Yes. Tactfully put, Cassandra,” Leliana sighed.

“It’s lovely to meet you, Cullen, Josephine. I’m Cerys. I look forward to getting to know all of you as we work together,” Cerys said in her best customer service voice. Josephine made a note on her board.  _ I am totally going to be reading over her shoulder all the time _ .

“I mentioned that your mark needs more power to close the Breach for good.”

“Which means we must approach the rebel mages for help.”

“And I still disagree. The Templars could serve just as well.”

“Ooh, okay. So I see that neither our Spymaster, nor our resident Badass Warrior Woman informed you that I don’t really do the whole religious order thing,” Cerys said to Cullen. He looked confused.

“We need power, Commander. Enough power poured into that Mark-” Cassandra was interrupted.

“Might destroy us all. Templars could suppress the Breach, weaken it so-” 

“Pure speculation,” Leliana interjected.

“ _ I _ was a Templar. I know what they’re capable of.” 

“Unfortunately, neither group will even speak to us yet. The Chantry has denounced the Inquisition - and you, specifically,” Josephine informed them.

“Good. Fuck ‘em,” Cerys scoffed. The advisors seemed surprised at her answer. “I  _ just _ said I don’t do religious orders. We’ll get the mages, they’re less likely to try to wrest the Inquisition from our hands, and they’re the marginalized group here. We’ll help them gain autonomy after we close the sky.”

“What? You can’t be serious!” Cullen exclaimed.

“I am. At least, that is my input on the matter. I won’t work with an organization that furthers the abuse of marginalized people, and you guys kinda need me to close the Breach. Leliana and Cassandra both already know what kind of shit fits I’m willing to throw if you try to force me into anything.”

Cullen looked at her a moment, mouth slightly open in disbelief. He looked to the mentioned women who just shook their heads, showing they supported the elf even if they didn’t necessarily, whole-heartedly want to. He turned to Josphine to address another matter that ate at his mind.

“Shouldn’t the Chantry be busy arguing over who’s going to become Divine?”

“Some are calling you - a Dalish elf - the “Herald of Andraste.” That frightens the Chantry,” Josephine told Cerys. “The remaining clerics have declared it blasphemy, and we heretics for harboring you.”

“Chancellor Roderick’s doing, no doubt.”

“Ugh, Raw Dick. Also, we’re not going to encourage the Herald of Andraste thing,” Cerys told Josephine. “Discourage it, if you can.”

“All of this limits our options. Approaching the mages or Templars for help is currently out of the question.” Josephine shared a look with Cassandra and Leliana. Cerys looked between the three women keenly. Cullen did the same, confused about the silent conversation they seemed to be having.

“Leliana, I swear if I find out that you have been encouraging the Herald of Andraste thing, I’ll find out what your favorite article of clothing is and burn it,” Cerys threatened. Leliana smiled slyly.

“I would never, Lady Herald. People are desperate for a sign of hope. For some, you’re that sign.”

“And to others, a symbol of everything that’s gone wrong,” Josephine added.

“How do we make that my title?” Cullen and Josephine laughed, the Divine’s hands seemed less pleased with Cerys’ jape. “Or maybe we can just make everyone more concerned about the Breach. Ya know, the real threat and symbol of everything that’s fucked now?”

“They do know it’s a threat, they just don’t think we can stop it.”

“The Chantry is telling everyone you will make it worse.”

“There is something you can do,” Leliana piped up. “A Chantry cleric by the name of Mother Giselle has asked to speak to you. She is not far and knows those involved better than I. Her assistance could be invaluable.”

“Cool, I guess. Are you sure the mages won’t speak to me just cuz the Chantry has denounced us? I feel like they’ve been so fucked by it they may want to rebel against the whole structure of it, not just the Templars.”

“While the mages hate the Templars, they are still largely Andrastian. Going against the Chantry would obviously be blaspheme for them as well. Are you really so against religion that you would assume it easy to go against the most core, basic beliefs a person was raised with?!” Cullen raised his voice at her and smacked a gauntleted hand to the table, making her jump back.

“Point taken. I still have thoughts and questions, but point taken,” she grumbled and sent him a minor glare. She hated that he was right.

“I understand Mother Giselle is a reasonable sort. Perhaps she does not agree with her sisters,” Leliana stopped the conversation from escalating for the time being. “You will find her tending to the wounded in the Hinterlands, near Redcliffe.”

“Look for other opportunities to expand the Inquisition’s influence while you are there,” Cullen commanded. He sounded much more stern after their little tiff.

“We need agents to extend our reach beyond this valley, and you’re better suited than anyone to recruit them, with the Mark on your hand,” Josephine felt the need to clarify. 

_ I guess it’s not because of my stellar personality and impeccable people skills. _

“In the meantime, let’s think of other options. I won’t leave this all to the Her-” Cerys cleared her throat loudly and Cassandra redirected her sentence, “to Cerys. Familiarize yourself with the map. I have a feeling we will be in here often.”

“We’ll post soldiers at a safe distance to the Temple,” Cullen informed the room as Cerys examined their neat little war map.

“Our best guess at “safe” anyway,” Leliana added. “I will send my scouts to protect Mother Giselle from the fighting. They will be able to slip past the worst of the fray.”

“Thank you, Leliana. When will we be leaving, Cassandra?” Cerys asked.

“It is best that we leave as soon as possible, dawn tomorrow if possible. Meet me in front of the chantry when you are ready to leave. Taralin shared your measurements with me and I have obtained some leathers for you to wear in the field. I suggest we bring Varric and Solas along, we fought well together in the valley.”

“Alright, I’ll let them know. Thank you for getting me some armor, I’ll pay you back as soon as I have money. Speaking of which, was there any sort of pack or bag with me when I was found, any belongings?”

“No,” Leliana answered with a bit of a laugh. “I’m told you were found quite naked.”

“Well it was worth it to ask. Thank you for feeding, clothing, and housing me since this all started. And thank you for donating your clothing and cosmetics personally, I really appreciate the thought.”

“Of course, we could not have Thedas’ one hope at salvation dying of exposure,” Leliana teased.

“And we must assure you look your best doing it,” Josephine tittered.  _ Literally tittered. _

Cerys laughed and excused herself from the room to inform their traveling companions. Varric was standing by the fire down the stairs in front of the chantry. 

“Hey there, Varric, what would you say to accompanying me to Redcliffe tomorrow? Cassandra will be there, and I’ll try to rope Solas in as well,” Cerys chirped as she jumped down from the wall behind him. He startled from reading something before laughing.

“Sure thing, Thorn. I could use a little adventure in these dull times,” he joked.

“I thought you’d say that. Alright, we leave at first light, or whatever. I’ll tell Grumpy Pants about our road trip and then come back for those pointers we talked about?”

Cerys gave his shoulder a friendly pat before wandering off in the direction of Solas’ cabin. She assumed it was the one they had meditated outside of a few hours earlier. When she approached she decided to try and sense his aura in there. If she had been able to sense her own this morning, perhaps she could reach his with a little more effort. For a few minutes, she found nothing, except small, vague minty cool spots.  _ Traces of his magic? Wards? _ She strained to listen, see if she could hear him and get more of a pinpoint on his location. Her ears twitched with the strain she was putting on them, she almost gave up before she heard a sigh and a slight shuffle of fabric on fabric. The sound came from the opposite corner of the room, she focused her search there and found the same minty coolness, bright and large now. Somehow, she sensed it was horizontal.  _ Is he taking a nap? _ She imagined reaching out and touching the minty mass and suddenly, it jerked into a more vertical position. Something fell to the floor in the cabin. She knocked lightly, trying not to startle him further. More fabric rustled within.

“Solas? It’s Cerys. I just got done with my meeting, and-” the door flew open, Solas stood shirtless behind it, leather pants slung low on his hips. “-uhhh….”

He looked down at himself and stepped back, gesturing her into the room. He retreated to the corner she had sensed him in and threw his sweater on.

“You had something to tell me?” He sounded far too proud of her reaction.

Cerys heaved a steadying sigh to gather herself, mentally. She knew how falling for this fucking egg man ended and she refused to put herself through that again, especially as it was much more personal this time.

“Yeah, that. Varric, Cassandra, and I are heading to the Hinterlands first thing tomorrow, official Inquisition shit. Cass suggested we invite you along. You fight well with the others, and it’d be nice to have a mage healer in case my ineptitude in battle really shows itself. We’re meeting in front of the chantry at dawn.”

“I will accompany you. We can continue your training, remedy your lack of experience, along the way. Master Tethras can assist you as well, I’m sure. You mentioned wanting to learn his “rogue tricks”? Having magic as well as archery should soon make you a formidable force in combat.” 

Solas had been impressed with her archery, never missing a stationary target. While she did struggle with a moving one, remedying that was a simple matter of practice and careful teaching. The crossbow toting dwarf seemed more than up to the challenge. Their student was already showing she was a quick study, sending a ball of her mana to brush him out of his shallow slumber moments earlier. He had been rummaging through the Fade, trying to find memories of her from before the Conclave and came up quite short, save the fleeting life of an elf who shared her frame. The memories were so old he had not been able to make out anything else of the elf and brushed the thought that they were the same being aside.

“Cool, it’ll be good to have you along. And, I guess it’s better to have two tricks up your sleeve than one. Oooh! I wonder….” Cerys fell silent and absently waved to him as she left the cabin, obviously deep in thought about something. 

Solas stood in the doorway, having followed her across the room. He watched her walk back towards the chantry, bumping into passersby on two occasions, too lost in her own mind to notice them.  _ What is in that head of yours? _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! 
> 
> My Tumblr post explaining the shit happening in my life atm: https://dragonshitlavellan.tumblr.com/post/623851942070927360/privileged-bitching


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whooo! Finally got this done!

That night, Taralin washed and braided Cerys’ hair. The braids were basically French braids to Cerys, one running from each of her temples. Taralin wrapped the ends of the braids around her head in what Cerys would describe as a milkmaid style.

“What is this style called?” Cerys asked.

“Orlesian Druffalo Maid braids. They’re mostly used to make waves or to travel and sleep in. They should hold up for a week before you have to re-do them. You really don’t know much about hair, do you?”

“I know enough to get me this far in life without balding.”

“Well, your hair is beautiful. You’re a public figure now, and you have to keep up appearances so it’s my job to keep it that way. Andraste was known for her golden hair. Her Herald will be known for her flaming locks.” Taralin was teasing, but they had a point. As a figure of the Inquisition, everything about Cerys would be under scrutiny. It made her skin crawl and her stomach turn. How long could she keep her ineptitude hidden? Would everyone find out she was an imposter from another world? If they did, what would they do to her? Lock her up and call her crazy? Taralin continued on, obviously annoyed about something. “Lady Cassandra will be able to help you with your hair and any other needs while you’re on the road. She already denied my request to accompany you.”

* * *

“So, Cerys, where is this farm you’re from?” Varric asked as they rode in the wagon to the Hinterlands. “Must be close if your first thought was to head to the Conclave. Maybe we can swing by, get any stuff you want from there.”

_ Fuck, what do I say?!? Do I tell them the truth? Spin a tale? Both?.......both and make it vague. _

“I kinda lied. Only kinda though! My parents died a long time ago, their farm is long gone. It doesn’t matter where it was anymore. After they died, I went off with a man I was seeing, lived with him in Denerim for a while. He turned out to be an asshole, so I left and travelled around, made money however I needed to.”

“So the work you told me about at the Breach, and the clothes you were wearing in that...vision...oh!” Cassandra blushed. 

Cerys ignored her, catching her drift and deciding it was better to let her think whatever she was thinking, scandalized as she was.  _ Maybe that’ll stop them from digging deeper, letting them draw their own conclusions. _

“You are a prostitute?” Solas asked bluntly.

_ Oh for the love of… fine, fuck you too Universe. I’ll play along, but fuck you. _

“Yep, if that’s what you wanna call it. Though I doubt I’ll need to bed anyone for money if I continue like this with the Inquisition. I am still a prisoner, I have no need for money at the moment.”

Varric laughed heartily. “Oh this is too good. If we live through this mess I am so writing your story. ‘Lady Love: the Whore Who Saved the World.’”

“Yeah, laugh it up. Just remember who stands behind you, shooting sharp sticks through the air with very little training. Not to mention the woman who’s closing the tears in reality.” 

“I will arrange a salary for you with Josephine. You are no longer our prisoner, Cerys,” Cassandra assured her.

“Well, I am trapped in this job as long as this thing is on my hand and I still want the world saved. The cage is larger, prettier, and I have a new jailor, but I am still a prisoner. Thank you though, Cassandra. I appreciate it. Tell Josephine to deduct anything I already owe for the tavern visits and gear I have received on the Inquisition’s bill.”

* * *

A week in a wagon, sleeping on the ground, having insane dreams that felt very real, and eating field rations had Cerys a little bit grumpy. Solas had been on her about meditating, taking up the first half hour of her morning every morning and the last half hour of her day every night, as well as invading her sleep whenever he could. She hadn’t made any progress in expanding her aura, nor had she been able to conjure any magic of her own. She could only feed whatever magic Solas conjured for her. Varric was much more helpful in getting her combat ready. He taught her how to craft smoke bombs which she could throw at her feet to distract an enemy, allowing her to retreat and gain distance. He also taught her how to wield a dagger in close quarters, which areas were weakest in the human body and easy for a shorter person to leverage. Cassandra offered herself as a sparring partner and had Cerys laid out flat more often than she was on her feet. Her body hurt from her training and from bouncing around on the road. They had made camp for the night and Cassandra was currently whooping her ass while Varric shouted unhelpfully from the sideline.

“Get under her guard, Thorn!”

Cerys stabbed the blunt practice dagger at the warrior again, was easily blocked, and shoved backwards. She tripped over her own scuffling feet and hit the ground, flat on her back. Cassandra’s booted foot thumped onto her stomach, pinning her in place and knocking the breath out of her.

“I don’t know what you mean by get under her guard, Varric, all she is is guard!” Cerys whined breathlessly. 

Cassandra subtly preened at the compliment while Solas stepped in to help Cerys stand.

“I’d like to continue my examination of the Mark,” he said. He had taken to using this excuse to get her away from the others, saying he had to focus, to meditate in privacy. He was unsure of how to tell the Seeker about her newfound magic.

“You examine that thing every morning and evening, if I didn’t know better I’d say you were stealing Thorn away for nefarious purposes,” Varric teased him.

“Couldn’t pay me enough,” Cerys snarked.

“Master Tethras, the Mark has threatened her life before. It would be ill-advised to leave it to its own devices, lest it be changing slowly instead of in its seeming state of stasis.” Solas hid his wounded expression in a shroud of academic concern.  _ Couldn’t pay her enough to do nefarious things with me? Surely I am not  _ **_so_ ** _ off-putting. She has blushed once or twice at my teasing and seems to enjoy our time in the Fade together. It is for the best though, as confusing as the woman is. _

“Have you observed any change since the closing of the rift in the Temple?” Cassandra asked.

He would have to tell her, soon, but best not to do it now. It would be obvious they had been hiding her magic for over a week. Perhaps he should start the breadcrumbs now. Cerys played dumb, blinking her large eyes at him innocently. He could see her aura flickering nervously in its gilded cage, afraid of being caught keeping another secret so soon after her own lie had been found out. He would not allow his insistence on keeping her magic a temporary secret to get her in more trouble, nor would he wish to bring the Seeker and Spymaster’s ire and attention down on himself.

“There have been slight changes to the magical signature. While the Mark itself has not spread, there is marginally more magic about her than there was at the time of the rift’s closing. It is not much, but it warrants monitoring.”

“You will keep me informed.”

“Of course, Seeker.”

* * *

Cerys found herself in a memory-like dream again. She knew from prior experience with the dream that she was in a forest, but all she could see at the moment was blinding blue-white light pulsing with a dark indigo. The heat within the light was nearly unbearable, sweat poured from her, and she could feel her concentration stretched thin and taught, a rubber band ready to snap. With one last pulse of the blinding heat and light, the band snapped and she fell to the ground in a heap. Her body felt heavy and ungainly, every sensory input too sharp and overwhelming. Birds singing were screams directly into her ears. Light, golden and filtered through the canopy of leaves, burned her eyes, even through their lids. The soft grass underneath her tickled and scraped life silk and sandpaper. The air, fresh and lovely, scorched her nostrils and choked her lungs as she heaved a great breath. The laughter that burbled from her throat tasted of blood and magic, souring her stomach as the shocked, happy noise spilled from her mouth in a river. She felt on the verge of madness, fear making her flaming skin cool rapidly, as his familiar energy scraped her consciousness. Solas was calling to her in the Fade. She was definitely dreaming, she wasn’t actually sitting in the woods, fighting to keep her mind her own. She allowed her mind to follow the rope of conscious thought to him. He seemed to be sitting in their camp, it looked just as it did in the waking world.

“Are you not looking for new Fade-bits to tickle your fancy, Solas?” her voice still shook slightly from the disturbia of her dream.

“I have had plenty of time to explore this area tonight, lethallan. Besides, I could not focus on anything, nor get any spirits’ attention when you were having such a tremendous dream. Did you feel them gathering at the edges of your little bubble?”

“Bubble?”

“Your dreams are shrouded, so that one may not see or listen in, though your emotions ring through the Fade as loud as alarm bells.”

“That’s surprisingly comforting. I’m glad peeping toms such as yourself can’t see into my totally normal, sexy dreams,” she joked. He was unimpressed. “But no, I don’t think I felt them. In case you didn’t understand, there was a lot happening inside that bubble.”

“Da’len, I know you do not like to speak about what happens in your dreams, but I must ask - do you think they have anything to do with the Mark? Are your dreams much changed since the Conclave?”

_ Besides the fact that I used to only dream of being in this world? Not in any way I can tell you, wolf. _

“Besides the fact that I didn’t have such vivid dreams before, and I’m more stressed than I’ve been in a long time so I’m bound to be having nightmares, no.”

“Your dreams are more vivid? It must have something to do with the connection the Mark gives you to the Fade.” He went quiet for a few moments, obviously deep inside his own head. Cerys sat quietly, letting herself practice her meditation, pushing her aura gently, since she had nothing better to do. “I would advise against practicing magic within the Fade, at least until I can teach you to shape it. Doing so could leave you vulnerable to spirits who wish you harm.”

“Demons?”

“If that’s what you want to call them.”

* * *

Cerys woke that morning, drenched in sweat but shivering. She also found herself much closer to Cassandra than she remembered being last night. When she stirred and moved away, the warrior woke immediately, ready for battle at the drop of a pin.

“It’s just me, Cass, I managed to cuddle up to you at some point last night. Sorry for sweating on you.”

Cassandra’s knife ( _ where was she hiding that?) _ dropped into her lap from her hand as she groaned and flopped backwards. Dawn light was just eeking into the tent. With a quick scrub of her face with both hands Cassandra swung upright again, moving on her knees to gather their things.

“If we pack quickly we can bathe in the stream before we leave. Taralin gave me strict instructions for your hair. And it would not do to travel with a sweaty, soiled Herald,” Cassandra teased her. 

Cerys grumbled good-naturedly and helped Cassandra pack their meager belongings and break down their tent. They were the first awake, besides the scout who had taken the last shift for night watch, whom they informed of their plans. They had set up camp not far from a stream and while the cold mountain water had been lovely to drink, it made for a horrible bathing environment. Cerys and Cassandra made quick work of cleaning their bodies, hurriedly splashing and scrubbing themselves as clean as they could manage in the shallow water, backs facing the other for better vantage on potential approaching peoples and/or animals. 

“May I ask what you have against ‘religious orders’?” Cassandra asked tentatively.

“I don’t really agree with any of the common religions here, not wholly. The Dalish are a little closer to right, worshipping separate gods that represent separate ideas, but one big something creating everything and expecting you to worship them...doesn’t sit right.”

“So you are Dalish, in religion at least.”

“No. I never said I believed their gods were real, and if they were that they were really gods. I believe that everything that has been and will be comes simply from the progression of events of the stuff around us. And, if I cannot find an answer to a question after dogged pursuit, I am happy enough to say it is not something that can be known at the moment, at least not by me. Someone else, somewhere will figure it out.”

“I’m not sure I understand. You think the Dalish are the most right, but not actually right? And you are willing to let your questions about the world go unexamined?”

“Correct on the Dalish part. But the second part is a bit more complex, and I think I’ll have a hard time explaining it. Let me think a bit?”

“Of course. Let us wash your hair while you come up with your explanation.”

Cerys quickly undid her hair and Cassandra assisted her in washing it. Cerys returned the favor. Clean and dry back in camp, Cassandra allowed Cerys to comb and braid the hair she kept long for her crowning braid in silence. The others had awoken and were making breakfast or packing their things. Varric and Solas sat adjacent to them near the fire. As the women switched places, Cassandra grew impatient.

“Have you come up with an explanation?”

Two heads popped up from their breakfast bowls, curious. Cerys winced as Cassandra dragged the comb through her hair, straight from root to end in one swift motion.

“I’m not sure it will ever satisfy your curiosity, Cassandra, but I will try. I believe the closest things there is to actual gods are natural forces, which I tend to call chaos and chance. Chaos and chance are how all the races came to be, how all plants and animals and Thedas itself came into existence. Chaos and chance over millennia that are still going strong and will be even after all life here is dead. Some call those things science, others give those things names like fate, Maker, Mythal, Elgar’nan,” she almost added Fen’Harel to tease the ‘god’ himself, but held her tongue. “Sometimes chaos and chance are molded by our hands, other times we are molded by them. And even more often, both mold each other. Our decisions may or may not impact the world around us, depending on the decisions and environments of others as well as a thousand, tiny things that I cannot even begin to name.”

“And you are satisfied with that answer?” Solas asked. He wasn’t even pretending not to eavesdrop.

“Broadly, yes. There have always been more pressing things on my mind than thinking about why exactly the sky is blue or why bad things happen to good people. It is more comforting to me that things just happen, for whatever reason, than to think that some omnipotent being in the sky, or wherever, is watching everything and pulling invisible strings to make them happen. I have to worry about things like how I get from point A to point B, do I have enough money to live off of, who’s going to hand me a bowl of that porridge.” 

She held a hand out to the two men and Varric refilled his empty bowl before handing it to her. She smiled her thanks and took a bite, humming in appreciation at the warmth. The hum turned into a grunt of pain as Cassandra pulled her hair rather roughly into two face-lifting tight braid. Long, red strands drifted about the camp in little tumbleweeds. A tear of pain escaped down Cerys’ taught face, but the torture was over after a few pins were stabbed through the braids, pulling them up and out of the way.

“I do not understand how that can be answer enough for you,” the Seeker said gruffly.

“And I understand why you wouldn’t as a Seeker of Truth and someone raised in a widespread, dominant religion. Andrastianism is so widely practiced that it often feels as though those that fall outside of it are obviously wrong, does it not?”

“I would not go that far,” Cassandra sounded like she actually would, but was trying to be respectful. Varric was scribbling in a notebook, absorbing all he could of this philosophical conversation.

“I understand if it does. I often feel what I imagine a Tal-Vashoth might after leaving the Qun. I do not have any rules to guide me into some pretty afterlife, if there is one, nobody with whom I completely share my beliefs and instantly have common ground with. I can only do what makes me happy and safe.”

“So you joined the Inquisition?” Solas laughed.

“That is something I had very little choice in. All my other options ended with me down a hand or a life, neither of which felt very happy or safe to me.” Cerys had finished her meal and wanted to end this prying conversation. “Thank you for your help, Cass. I think it’s time we get moving, the soldiers are looking a little antsy.”

* * *

“You have to predict where the target will go next and aim there,” Varric instructed her.

Their target, a rabbit, twitched it’s ears as it sniffed around in the grass, pausing here and there to nibble on the foliage. Cerys did not want to shoot the animal, but her rumbling stomach and the knowledge that all that waited at camp was dried goods made it easier. Her arrow sailed through the air and landed in it’s skull with a wet thump. Varric watched a tear roll down her face as she looked at the dead animal, not moving to retrieve it. He carried it back to camp, following behind her, and gave it to one of the Commander’s soldiers to dress.

“You did well. It takes practice, like everything.”

Cerys did not want to practice taking lives, it felt so alien and wrong to her. She already felt guilty about not having a way to restore demons to the Fade as spirits again, and she had killed a lot of spirits on her way to the Breach. Ever since she played through Solas’ personal quest for the first time she wanted it, to return his friend to him and prevent other spirits from meeting that fate. If she could get a grip on her magic, unlock it as Solas once said, perhaps they could develop a spell, something she could do with the Anchor, to achieve that.

“Cerys, if you don’t follow a religion, how do you know what’s right and wrong?” Varric piped up.

“Funny, I was just thinking about right and wrong. As you can imagine, given my inexperience with combat, I haven’t had to kill much before, and definitely not a person. I don’t know what I will feel if I ever do have to kill a person, or if I will be able to do it when the time comes. I do know that when I cause pain in others, I feel their pain in myself. If that isn’t reason enough to be kind, I don’t know what is.”

“Your speech has become much more eloquent on this journey, Cerys,” Solas commented.

“Well, I’ve got a little more time to think about what I say without death constantly looming over my head. Or maybe your and Cassandra’s formality is contagious,” she laughed, nudging his thigh with her foot as she walked by his seat by the fire.

* * *

The Hinterlands were absolutely gorgeous, rolling hills and stunning mountains, all covered in leafy trees just turning into their autumn splendor. Sunlight filtered through the leaves, dappling the Inquisition camp in golden light as the cart horses came to a stop, just outside of it. Cerys edged herself carefully over the edge as her companions hopped out more easily. The bumpy road had put pins and needles in her legs so they felt quite strange as she stood on them unsteadily. She leant against the side of the cart for support as a pretty dwarf woman came up to their party, smiling with professional enthusiasm.

“The Herald of Andraste! I’ve heard the stories, everyone has. We know what you did at the Breach. It’s odd for a Dalish elf to care about what happens to anyone else, but you’ll get no balk talk here. That’s a promise. Inquisition Scout Harding, at your service. I - all of us here - we’ll do whatever we can to help,” the scout rushed to say. She was a whirlwind of hand gestures and dancing expressions. She reached out and clasped each of the traveler’s arms in greeting.

“Harding, huh? Ever been to Kirkwall’s Hightown?” Varric joked.

“I can’t say I have. Why?”

“You’d be Harding in - oh, never mind.”

Cerys gave a giggle as Cassandra gave a disgusted snort and eye roll. Solas seemed above humor today.  _ Always so changeable that one. Joking around with everyone one moment, the next a distant, silent hedge mage. He must find that mask very uncomfortable, whichever is truly the mask. _

“Not Dalish, not a Herald, got nothing to do with Andraste as far as I know, please call me Cerys. I appreciate the promise and the help, Scout Harding, we’ll need a lot of both if we want to close that Breach for good.” She should just wear a sign with that first sentence printed around her neck. She knew she’d get bored of saying it to every soul they met.

“I’ll keep all of that in mind. We should get to business. The situation’s pretty dire. We came to secure horses from Redcliffe’s old horse master. I grew up here and people always said that Dennet’s herd were the strongest and the fastest this side of the Frostbacks. But, with the Mage - Templar fighting getting worse, we couldn’t get to Dennet. Maker only knows if he’s even still alive. Mother Giselle’s at the Crossroads helping refugees and the wounded. Our latest reports say the war’s spread there, too. Corporal Vale and our men are doing what they can to help protect the people, but they won’t be able to hold out very long. You best get going, no time to lose.” Scout Harding turned on her heel and left without another word, having marked their map with points of interest the whole time she was speaking.

“Thanks!” Cerys called after her.

The four of them gathered their packs from the cart and moved through the camp. Cerys was following Cassandra, attempting to orient herself, but Cassandra seemed to be wandering about randomly.

“Where are we off to first?” she asked.

“I was about to ask the same question, you don’t seem to know where you want to go,” Cassandra answered.

“I was following you.”

“But I was following you.”

“Listen,” Cerys blew a large breath, “I have the directional sense of a nose-blind, concussed mole. You shouldn’t follow me, I will only get us lost.”

“Word for you,” said an officer, approaching from the outskirts of camp.

“What’s up?” 

“We need supplies to make new field tents. I have a letter from the Commander with the materials we require. See for yourself, ser.” The officer handed her a slip of parchment with slightly messy, loopy scrawl.

“I’ll see what we can do about getting this stuff. Can’t have our people sleeping totally rough.” Cerys gestured for Cassandra to take the lead, which she did. “Let’s get to Mother Giselle first and then we’ll go get some ponies. You know which way to go?”

Varric laughed at her enthusiasm about the animals while the other two seemed more disappointed in her word choice. 

“Yes, follow me, Herald.” Cassandra was pushing her buttons on purpose!

“Hey! If you’re not careful I’ll tell Dennet to give you the nastiest, meanest pony he has!” Cerys threatened childishly.

* * *

“I assume you’ve heard about Prince Sebastian, Varric,” Cassandra piped up as she led them down the hillside.

“I know he invaded Kirkwall. Are you going to blame me for that too?” Varric was instantly defensive, though he tried to play it as a joke.

“I wasn’t trying to…” 

“You weren’t trying to remind me of how bad it is in Kirkwall? So you decided to talk about it?”

“I thought you might be concerned. It  _ is _ your home.”

“Of course I’m concerned! I don’t need you prodding me with a stick to prove it.”

“Play nice, you two. Varric, I believe she was trying to offer you comfort, an ear to bend, about the subject. Am I right, Cass?” Cerys put a hand lightly on Varric’s shoulder.

“I - yes. I am here to listen if you need to talk about it, Varric,” Cassandra answered as smoothly as she could.

“Thanks for the offer, Seeker,” Varric said dismissively. He sighed after a pause, seeming about to speak again, but they came upon a skirmish before he could continue.

“Inquisition forces! They’re trying to protect the refugees! Hold! We are not apostates,” Cassandra called to the attacking Templars, even as she rushed forward, sword in hand.

“I do not think they care, Seeker,” Solas said as he drew his staff from it’s strap on his back.

“Also, we do, technically, have an apostate with us,” Cerys pitched in, unhelpfully. 

She stood a few feet to the left of Varric, loosing arrows at the attacking Templars when she found openings away from Cassandra and the Inquisition scouts. As the Templars fell, they advanced and Cerys’ knees knocked together with anxiety and guilt. Walking past the bodies of the fallen, she was grateful to see none dressed in the green uniform of their scouts. It wasn’t even 50 feet before they were set upon by the mages and Cerys was hit with a cold spell. She froze, almost literally in place as shivers wracked her body, incapacitating her momentarily.

“We are not Templars! We mean you no harm,” Solas shouted as he covered the three ranged members of their party in a barrier.

“Doesn’t look like they’re listening!” Varric called as fire and ice spells hit the barrier around them. 

Cassandra dodged the spells with grace as she charged the mages and cut one down. Spells, bolts, and arrows made quick work of the other two. Cerys let out a shaky breath, willing the tears in her eyes to recede, to wait to be dealt with in privacy, not in front of her party and their scouts. Her shoulders slumped as she held her bow low, still nocked with an arrow, ready for more fighting. Varric had drilled this position into her on their journey, Cassandra told her never to let down her guard until all of them were sure the fighting was over. It paid off.

“Be ready, more coming our way!” Solas warned as he looked back the way they had come. 

Two Templars were chasing a pair of mages straight into them. Cerys threw down the caltrops Varric had given her so long ago and shuffled back, keeping her feet close to the ground so she wouldn’t step on them herself, as he had taught her. He was doing the same while Solas stepped carefully around them. The ball of his bare foot caught on one and he winced as it scraped the flesh there. Cassandra waited behind the traps while her ranged friends backed away. The mages charged right over the traps, barely noticing the metal slicing through the thin leather soles of their shoes, shooting spells behind, at the Templars. One mage fell to the ground at Cerys’ feet and shot a fireball directly at her. With a scream, a bright blue flame left the hand she raised to protect her face, slicing the orange flames in half, and incinerated the person who sent it. Varric shot a Templar fatally between his armor and helmet before he could attack Casandra. The warrior took hold of the other Templar’s lyrium filled veins and slowed his movements, incapacitating and restraining him. Solas froze the remaining mage in place. Cerys looked around at the destruction they had wrought in their skirmish and heaved a shaky sigh, only to find herself at the tip of Cassandra’s sword.

“You lied, you are a mage! I saw that blast, you burned this man alive.”

“No, I promise, I wasn’t a mage before this, that’s the first time I’ve done anything like that!” Cerys dropped her bow and put her hands up in surrender. She could feel something grasping at her body, searching for something.

“Seeker, I believe it is a side effect of the Mark’s spreading magic. Perhaps it has awoken some latent magical potential within her,” Solas defended, his own weapons safely upon his back, hands spread in a gesture of peace. “I mentioned a trace of magic growing within her, it appears to have manifested to save her life.”

“You were to keep me informed,” Cassandra snarled. “I was not made aware that she would begin casting, without training or a staff.”

“I haven’t done it before, I didn’t mean to now. My mind just went blank when I saw that fireball,” Cerys was very near to crying now. 

She was happy to have finally conjured something on her own, but devastated at the death she caused today. And, perhaps, shitting her pants at the Seeker holding her at sword-point. Cassandra observed her shaky body and trembling lip, and sheathed her sword.

“You will refrain from casting while we are at the Crossroads. We will take the Templar and mage to the Inquisition scouts there, they will be held and questioned by Leliana’s people. Solas, you will teach Cerys how to control her magic until we can find a proper instructor for her. Varric, restrain that mage and walk them to the crossroads,” Cassandra commanded. "We will discuss this further after we speak to Mother Giselle."

Everyone obeyed and followed her as she walked the Templar into the Crossroads town. Cerys felt that same strange sensation of being touched completely, as if she had been dunked in cool water, and knew that Solas was brushing her aura, assessing it.

Solas found that her aura, while still largely caged, had grown encompassing her head and shoulders, and leaking out of the golden lining, brilliantly blue like a clear sky. Her powers were manifesting more fully. He was unsure if that was a comfort or a sign to proceed with caution. He could not lose his Anchor to the fear these tranquil people had of magic. Therefore, he must endeavor to protect the Mark Bearer from any and all mortal threats. He winced as he walked on his injured foot. He would have to speak with her about when it was proper to throw those infernal traps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time we're gonna speak to Mother Giselle and deal with the aftermath of Cerys' lil light show and her little white lies. Should be fun! (Actually, probs not)


End file.
